Awareness & Annoyance of Her
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: One man was highly aware of his attraction for her. The other man was annoyed by his attraction for her. It didn't matter to her, because she was oblivious to both of them. Dramione and Harmione .
1. Chapter 1 Glasses Draco Malfoy

**All characters belong to JK Rowling and I make no money from the writing or pubishing of this story. Thanks!**

**

* * *

**

**Awareness and Annoyance of Her**

**By**

**Anne M**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Glasses – (as noticed by Draco Malfoy)**

**I HAD A PROBLEM **the other day**. **It was Monday morning, and it was time for our weekly staff meeting, and everything would have been fine, except the one person who irritated me the most in the world decided to ruin everything for me.

I'm referring to Hermione Granger. She had these stupid glasses on and I was fairly certain she didn't need them to see. The reason for my assessment was that half the time she'd take them off and plop them on top of her head when she read. The other half of the time she'd suck on the end of the earpiece or twirl them around in her hand. The other quarter of the time she'd might wear them on her nose like a good, little, blind girl should. Yes, I knew that was more than 100 percent. I was irritated, not stupid.

I just really didn't think she needed those glasses, so I took them from her, and that was two days ago and I still have them and now I have to figure out a way to get them back to her.

I've wondered for a while why she wore them, anyway. Did she think they made her look smart? Hell, everyone already knew she was smart. She didn't have anything to prove to anyone on that account.

Did she think they improved her looks, because they didn't? They really, really, didn't. Sure, they were sexy in an abstract sort of way; however she was not sexy in the least. She was not attractive, either. I would call her face passable, at best. She usually wore her hair long, curly, and an uncombed mess. She hardly ever wore makeup. She had freckles across the bridge of her nose and a few on her cheeks, and a single one on her chin. Who liked freckles on a grown woman? One day I counted them (when I was close enough to do so) and she only had eleven, so what was the point of having them at all?

And why did she always have to sit right in front of me when we had our staff meetings? Our wanker of a boss insisted that we have meetings in a bloody room set up like a classroom, so there are rows of chairs in front of each other, and for some unknown reason, Granger usually came in late, and she always, ALWAYS, sat right in front of me.

That really bothered me more than her glasses.

One time she laughed so loud at something the oaf said that she snorted. How uncouth was that? Last week she tried to hide her laughter with her hand. She was such a paradox. I wanted to yell at her, "Either laugh loud and boisterous, or keep your stupid laugh to yourself!"

I think what irritated me the most on Monday was that she didn't doodle on her notes, like she usually did. Swear to Merlin, most of the time she would doodle all over her notes. She'd draw little circles and designs all over them. Thank goodness she never drew hearts and flowers. If she did that I'd probably have taken her glasses right off her head and I would have strangled her with them a long time ago.

The fact that she even listened as our boss droned on and on, and then wrote down the important things the tosser said, and then even underlined the things she deemed really important, was enough to drive a sane man insane! Sometimes she underlined things three times! Three times! Who would see her notes but her? One time she put an asterisk next to something. What the hell was that?

She was certifiable, that was it.

And yeah, okay, so I realized long ago that it might seem to some that I was a bit obsessed with her. I mean, so what? I noticed some little things about her that others probably didn't, but that was only because she was so incredibly annoying that everything she did caught my attention.

The other day she was at her desk, reading a report, and she brought her right hand up to her throat and kept it there forever. It was as if she was 'feeling' for something that wasn't there. She frowned while she was reading, but I could have cared less why she was frowning. I was obsessed by the attention that effing hand was paying to her throat.

Her hand on her throat called my attention to her neck. Her neck was so long and bare. Her fingers were slender. For a brief moment I wanted to touch her neck, too. I wanted my hand to replace hers. I even thought about kissing it for a second. How crazy was that?

Then, after I stared at her neck for a while, I watched her hand again, and that made me realize that she didn't wear jewelry on her neck or hands. I wondered for a good five minutes why she wasn't married. Sure, I'm not married either, but it was okay for a bloke to be my age and single. For a woman, it was just sad. She used to be rather awkward looking, when we were in school. The awkwardness was long gone.

I still can't stand her, though.

Which led me to my main point of contention: She walked into the conference room on Monday and asked me, "Do you mind if I sit next to you?"

WHY WOULD SHE ASK ME THAT? She usually sat down in front of me. Why did she want to sit beside that day? I looked at the seat in front of me and saw that someone else was sitting there. I shrugged at her and feigned indifference, although frankly, I didn't want her anywhere near me.

She sat down and immediately dropped her glasses from her hand, where they landed on the floor. If she had the stupid things on her face, (where glasses belonged) she wouldn't have dropped them.

We both bent down at the same time to pick them up. Our fingers touched. She sat upright before I did and said something like, "Sorry." She should have been! I had her glasses in my hand. I sat back up in my seat right after she did.

I said, "Look at me, Granger." She turned slightly in her seat. "Do you really need these to see?"

"Not really. I bought them because I thought they made me look smart," she said with a smile.

Ah ha. I thought so. I shook my head, in apparent disgust. Then, I opened the glasses, and placed them on her face. I placed the earpieces in place and moved her hair behind her ears in the process. Her hair was so much softer than I imagined. Odd.

"There you go, four-eyes. You look bloody brilliant. Real intelligent. Too bad it's all an act," I said with as much disdain as I could muster.

She gave me a small smile and turned to face the front. The boss had just entered. She opened her notebook and began to take notes. I look down at my hands. My fingers tingled where they touched her. Why was that?

I looked back over at her quickly. She removed her glasses and folded them nicely, then placed them on the table in front of her. She reached up and moved her hair away from her ears. Maybe she didn't like the fact that I put it there. She bit down on her bottom lip, and looked over at me quickly.

Again, I feigned indifference. I didn't want her to think I was aware of her, or anything. I refused to incriminate myself by letting her know that for some reason just being close to her was intoxicating to me. It was driving me bloody mad. Geesh. I prayed to every evil force I knew of that I didn't have a crush on Granger. That would be the end of my world as I knew it.

Therefore, I needed to test a theory. So while the old windbag was still talking, and Granger was apparently engrossed in her important note taking, I decided to reach over and touch her again. She had picked up her stupid glasses and was twirling them around in her hand. _Twirl, twirl, twirl._ I reached over and just took the effing things right out of her hand. I let my fingers brush hers first, though, hence my experiment.

We looked at each other, at the exact same time. I placed her glasses in my pocket and whispered, "Really, Granger, if you aren't going to wear them, there's no reason to have them. They aren't a play thing. Let me give them to someone who needs them. It's not as if they enhance your looks or anything."

She gave her head a slight nod and turned her rapt attention back to the old bastard. I swallowed hard and clenched my fist several times. My hand felt like it was on fire from touching her. My neck felt prickly and I felt a fine layer of sweat form on my upper lip.

Gads…I had a crush on her. Well, wasn't that just great? On top of everything else, it was two days later and I still had her glasses. They were in my pocket the entire day after the meeting, and all day today. I guess I'll have to give them back to her somehow


	2. Chapter 2 Smiles Harry Potter

**all characters belong to JKR **

**Chapter 2 – Smiles (as noticed by Harry Potter)**

**THAT AFTERNOON AT LUNCH** I sat across from Hermione Granger. I don't always get to eat with her, because sometimes I'm too busy for lunch, but she always sits at the same table, so when I can sit with her, I do. Everyday she brings a brown paper bag with the same things inside: an apple, a cheese sandwich, and a bottle of juice. She usually reads during lunch. Once in a while she'll talk to me. This afternoon she smiled at me.

"What's that smile about, Hermione?" I asked.

Then, while still smiling, she reached over and brushed her hand across my bangs and said, "I just think you're so wonderful, Harry."

I only wish she meant it. I mean, I know she meant it. She loved me, as a friend. She adored me, as a friend. She thought, in her words, that I was wonderful, as a friend. Yet, when she smiled at me, my heart melted. Would a friend's heart melt when another friend smiled at him? I don't think so.

After the smile, the touch of the hand to my hair, and the declaration of how wonderful I was, she started telling me how Draco Malfoy took her glasses yesterday and he hadn't given them back yet. I wasn't sure why that was such a catastrophe. She didn't really need them to see. She bought them at a Muggle chemist shop. I'm thankful that I no longer needed to wear glasses, and here she wanted to get fake glasses back from the stupid wanker, Draco Malfoy.

I nodded my head with her in agreement; yes, Draco Malfoy was the world's biggest git. Yes, Draco Malfoy was strange. Yes, Draco Malfoy was reprehensible and an idiot.

Because he was all those things, a wanker, a git, a stupid fool. Why we had to ruin a perfectly good lunch hour talking about something we both already knew was beyond me. I almost told her that I thought she was protesting a bit too much.

She didn't like him or something, did she? The thought of that made my stomach lurch forward and then fall down into my feet. I reached over for her hand, to keep it still, and said, "Hermione, can we stop talking about Draco Malfoy?"

"But he still has my glasses!" she said. "He took them right off the table in front of me and put them in his pocket for no good reason! He stole them right under my nose, and because we were in the middle of the staff meeting, and I didn't want our boss to notice, I didn't say anything."

"I hate that you work with that prat," I said with a frown. "I'll get your glasses back for you."

"Oh, Harry, that's nice of you, but I wasn't complaining to you because I expected you to get them back for me. I can get them." Then she smiled at me again. A smile that started at her mouth but soon lit up her whole face.

Silent film star, Charlie Chaplin, wrote a song about smiles. I remembered only a small part of it, bits and pieces really, but it played around my brain at that moment because her smile made me think of it. It said something about, "_smile, though your heart is aching, smile, even though its breaking, when there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by, if you smile, through your tears and sorrow, smile, and maybe tomorrow, you'll see the sun shining through - for you, if you smile."_

Hermione's smile had the power to make my heart ache and break. It had the capacity to light up a dark sky. It had soothed many of my tears and sorrows away. I often knew that everything would be better in my dark, lonely life, just because she smiled at me.

She was my best friend in the world. Ron was my best mate. There's a difference. I loved them both, but differently. There were different times in my life when I thought I was IN LOVE with Hermione Granger, my best friend. I've actually been in love with Ginny Weasley since I was a boy, but even that's a different kind of love.

What I feel for Hermione is deeper. It's a soul searing love. It's a 'give up all that I own and it still wouldn't be enough' love.

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to kiss her. We are always very affection with each other, and we've even kissed on the lips, but not passionately. I'm not dating Ginny right now, and Hermione is no longer dating Ron, so the thoughts of kissing her have been getting stronger lately. Her lips are so full and soft. Her body is curvy and giving and warm. She would feel right in my arms. I want to feel that. I want to savor her lips, taste them, and have them next to mine. I want her to smile at me, for the rest of our lives, and at no one else.

I looked back up at her and her smile melted away. She looked over my shoulder. She looked as if she was concentrating on something or someone. There was something so different and compelling and singular about this woman and her smile and her every expression. I knew them better than I knew my own. This expression was one of concern.

I looked over my shoulder to see what she saw. Draco Malfoy entered the room, and had stopped to talk to someone. He had Hermione Granger's glasses in his hand, and while he was talking to the bloke, he was waving the glasses around, vicariously, almost as if he wanted Hermione to see them. It was as if he was offering up a challenge.

I heard the chair legs of her chair scoot back across the floor. This was her battle. I would fight it for her if she'd let me. I'd fight them all for her if she'd let me, just as she would fight all of mine. We usually accomplished more fighting together. I stood up as well, just so he would see that I was there.

"Malfoy?" Hermione poked Draco's arm - the arm that owned the hand that held her glasses, at least for the time being.

He told the man to whom he was speaking goodbye, turned to Hermione and didn't even have the manners to answer her. He merely stared back at her.

She said, "I'd like my glasses back, please." She held out her hand. I was shocked she said please. Her demeanor didn't denote 'please'. Her demeanor denoted, 'give me my glasses or suffer the consequences'.

"Oh, really?" the git said, waving the glasses in front of her face. "Do you mean these glasses? The ones you admitted that you don't even need? The ones you wear to make yourself appear smarter? The ones that you annoy me with by playing with them, or twirling them? These glasses?"

She still held out her hand. I sat against the table and folded my arms in front of me and cleared my throat so he would know I was there, since he hadn't yet notice me. Not that she needed me as a back up, and not that Malfoy was particularly scared of me. More because I knew my presence would annoy him. I lived to annoy Malfoy, just as he lived to annoy me. It was what we were to each other: the ultimate annoyance.

He rolled his eyes and said, "I see you have Potter back there. Does the boy who lived need to fight your battles for you now, Granger?"

"Do you mean to battle me over MY glasses, Malfoy?" she asked back.

He moved her glasses from one hand to the next, and then actually rolled them around the fingers of one hand in a generally good show of dexterity. He looked her straight in the eyes and said, "I want to throw these in the rubbish bin, Granger. You don't need them. They don't improve your looks. You're already the smartest damn person I know, so believe me, they can't possibly make you look smarter. It annoys me how you put them on top of your head, or twirl them on the desk, or suck on the ear piece. I can't concentrate at work when you wear these. Please, let's get rid of the blasted things."

I stood upright, away from the table, a bit shocked. Was Draco Malfoy being contrite? What the hell?

It seemed to confuse Hermione, too. She had a frown on her face, but then, I became aware that her frown turned into another smile. She smiled at the ruddy bastard. It started out as a small, tentative smile, but grew to a large smile that encompassed her whole face. Her eyes were bright and her face flushed.

I hated that she would waste a smile like that on a man like him. It seemed to mystify him as well, because the look on his face was priceless. It was a cross between confused and amazed.

"Go on and throw them in the rubbish bin," she said. She pointed to one in the corned of the room.

The smarmy bastard did something next that almost made me pull out my wand to hex him. He smiled back at her.

He walked to the corner of the room, tossed her glasses on top of the heap of trash, and said, "Good show, Granger."

She walked back over to our table, SMILED, at me, picked up her things, and then when she walked back to Malfoy she said, "Yes, I have another pair at home just like them."

Malfoy's smile turned into another frown.

And heaven help me…I smiled again. I loved that woman so much.


	3. Chapter 3 Waiting Draco Malfoy

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 3 – Waiting – (as observed by ****Draco****Malfoy****)**

**WHY WAS SHE HERE? **That was the first thought that went through my mind when I walked into the outer office of the boss of Muggle Affairs. Hermione Granger was sitting on a sofa, with her nose in a book, apparently waiting to see the boss, too. I looked over at Mindy, the boss' secretary, and gave her my best smile…and yes, she smiled back.

"Is he busy?" I asked.

"In a meeting," she replied. "And then he has a meeting with Hermione, but he might be able to work you in after that, Mr. Malfoy."

"Damn straight he will," I said with a flash of another smile to Mindy. Then I winked at her. I also turned my head in time to see Granger rolling her eyes. I glared at her. "Why are you here, Granger? Did you do something you ought not, and now you're about to get a dressing down?"

"You would assume that's the only reason someone is seeing the boss, since that's usually the only reason you're here, Malfoy," she said flatly.

"For your information I have something important to discuss with him," I snarled.

She smiled sweetly and said, "Are you volunteering to be transferred to the Icelandic office?"

"No, ice princess. That's more up your alley." I leaned on Mindy's desk and said, "Listen, love, do you think I might be squeezed in before the old battle ax over there?"

I felt Granger's book hit the back of my head. Thank goodness it was a paperback. I rubbed my head and turned to glare at her. She laughed, stood up, picked up her book and sat back down. She said, "I'm as shocked as you are, Malfoy. I didn't think I would hit you in a hundred years. I thought it would sail right by your head. Of course, it's such a large target; I was bound to hit it."

"Ha! And another ha!" I said, with a slightly exaggerated air. I turned back to Mindy and gave her my best smile. White, straight teeth, full lips, the works. I'll get to see the boss before Granger! That would teach her to hit me with things.

Mindy said, "You'll just have to wait, Mr. Malfoy. Sorry."

I heard Granger snort. She was such an uncouth, but uppity prig sometimes. Like I said before: A PARADOX! "Fine!" I snapped.

Granger continued to read her book. There were two chairs in the outer office, and one sofa. I could have sat in one of the two chairs, or beside her on the couch. Just to irk her I sat on the sofa. I plopped myself right down next to her, with as much drama and flare as I could. I spread my legs out in front of me, placed one arm behind her shoulders on the back of the cushions, the other arm over my eyes and I said, "Fine, if I have to wait, I'll wait."

Hermione glanced at me sideways and snarled, "There are two empty chairs, Malfoy."

"Perhaps you would like to move your bum over to one of them," I sneered. She made a sort of 'tsk' sound with her tongue and teeth. The sort of disapproving sound that a teacher makes with a student who is misbehaving, or a mother makes to a toddler when they pick their nose or draws on the wall, or dirties their nappies. I'll teach her to 'tsk' at me.

I moved so that my feet were now resting comfortably on her lap and my head was up against the armrest of the sofa. I was lying on my back, arms behind my head, and I said, "Wake me up when it's my turn to see the old coot."

"He's only four years older than you," Granger replied. Then she picked up my feet, as I knew she would, and turned my entire body so that my feet were back on the floor. Then she 'tsked' again.

"Why are you making that weird noise?" I asked. "You sound as if someone is letting all of your air out of your body."

I leaned closer to her and tried to read over her shoulder. She closed her book and asked, "Do you mind?"

"Do I mind that you're a know-it-all pain in the arse that's sitting here, taking up my breathing space, yes actually, I think I do mind," I retorted.

"Malfoy, will you ever grow up?" she asked. "Don't you ever get tired of hating me so much? Isn't it getting old?"

"The only thing getting old is you," I snapped. I knew that was a feeble comeback, but it was the best I could come up with, because she looked slightly hurt. Also, because she said that I hated her, and I didn't, but hell, I couldn't hardly give a snappy comeback that had the phrase, 'I don't hate you anymore' in the sentence. Finally, I said, "Do you know what you need, Granger?"

"Oh my goodness," she said with another sigh, "Here he goes again. Why do you always think you're qualified to tell me what I need? It seems to me that you don't even know what you need, Malfoy."

I heard Mindy laugh. I looked over at her. She went straight back to work. See if I waste any more of my best smiles on that bint. I said, "Fine, tell me what I need, Granger, and then I'll tell you what you need."

"All you need is to grow up, and stop hating people for no apparent reason," she said softly. "I don't hate you."

"Well, that's totally beside the point," I said with a frown. I studied my fingernails for a moment and then said, "Besides, I don't hate you, Granger my girl. Haven't for a long time."

"You still act horrible toward me," she remarked, opening her book. "Listen, that's fine, never mind. We don't have to have this conversation. I really would rather relax and read my book before my meeting with the boss, okay?" She began to read again. I watched her from the corner of my eye.

Her hair fell in front, covering some of her face. She looked like she was silently contemplating something important, instead of only reading. If only she gave me a modicum of that much attention, I would be a happier man for it, I'm sure. "What are you reading so intently, anyway, Granger?" I stole her book from her, looked at the front cover, laughed, and then held it up to Mindy. "Look, love. Granger's reading poetry. La, de, da, Granger. Aren't you _Miss Literary Highbrow_?" I threw her book back at her.

"Excuse me for wanting a bit of culture and refinement in my life," she scolded. "You could obviously use a bit of refinement yourself."

I took her book from her hand again. I heard her sigh. I flipped through the pages. "Who is this chap? I've never heard of EE Cummings. Couldn't the bloke afford to use capital letters when he wrote?" I was goading her. Of course I had heard of EE Cummings. To anger her more I said, "I bet it's a bunch of crap."

She sighed again, took the book right from my hands, opened it to a marked page, and read aloud, "I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart. I am never without it, anywhere I go, my dear, and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling, I fear, no fate, for you are my fate my sweet. I want the world, for beautiful you are my world, my true, and it's you whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing is you."

She stopped reading and looked at me. "Is that crap, Malfoy?"

"Finish it," I said, staring right in her eyes. I could feel Mindy staring at us. I knew our bastard of a boss had opened our door and was watching us as well.

She stood up and said, "What's the point, Malfoy? You'll only call it crap and make fun of me again."

I stood up quickly, right before her, and finished the poem from memory. "Here is the deepest secret nobody knows, here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide. And this is the wonder that is keeping the stars apart. I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart." I might have missed a few words, or mess it up slightly, but I felt I gave it my all, and frankly, I meant every single word I had just said.

She stared at me, dumbfounded, mouth slightly opened. I wanted to kiss her so badly that all breath left my body. I didn't care that we had an audience. To me, it was only her and me. She said softly, "You know EE Cummings?"

"Well not personally. He's been dead for almost fifty years, Granger," I said with a smirk.

She tried not to smile. Our boss, the sodding bastard, cleared his throat and said, "Hermione, I can see you now. Malfoy, I'll see you afterwards." She nodded toward the man, started into the other room, but then turned back to face me.

She handed me the book. "Keep it until I come back out, won't you? Fold the pages of your favourites. I'd like to read them."

I gave her a curt nod. I sat down and watched her hips sway as she walked into the boss' office. Instead of marking the pages of my favourite Edward Estlin Cummings poems, I asked Mindy for a pen. She handed me one. I wrote a little poem of my own on the inside cover of Granger's book. More of a limerick than a poem. It started with…"There once was a girl from Nantucket…"

I laughed as I wrote it. I could just hear her now as she read it… 'tsk, tsk, tsk!' I folded the cover back on the book and threw it on the couch. I said, "Make sure Granger gets her book back, won't you, Mindy?"

"Aren't you going to stay and talk to Mr. Flint?" she asked.

"Mr. Flint can stick a broomstick up his arse," I said with a laugh. She laughed, too. "No, I got what I came for, love." I walked out of the room, but I was in my own little world the entire way back to my office. All I could do was imagine Granger reciting that poem to me. I imagined the words were meant FOR me, and were said TO me.

Merlin's balls, I had it bad. I had it bad for Granger. Somebody please kill me now.


	4. Chapter 4 Tears Harry Potter

**All characters belong to JKR **

**Chapter 4 – Tears – (as witnessed by Harry Potter)**

**NOBODY HAD SEEN HER FOR **three days, so I finally decided to go to her house to check on her. Her house was secluded, in a Muggle neighborhood, and very small, but it was all hers and she loved it. I remembered the day Ron and I helped her move in, she was bossing us all around and though we both acted put out, we admitted later that we loved it, because we loved her.

_I didn't love_ that it wasn't hooked up to the Floo system, or that she had so many wards up that no one could Apparate inside. She didn't like us to send Owls, claiming that the neighbors would think it odd, though her closest neighbor was two kilometers away.

No, Hermione Granger just liked her privacy and that was okay, except at times like this. There were always parts of her life that she kept private from us, and other parts of her life that she kept private from her family. I don't know why, but it had always been that way and I respected it.

I knocked on the front door for several minutes, calling her name, and when she didn't answer I ran around to the back.

I knocked there, still no answer. I went to the windows near the breakfast nook and looked inside. The house was uncommonly dark. Now I was worried. As an Auror, I was taught to be on guard, and to look for things that were unusual and out of the ordinary. Frankly, everything appeared fine, but the hairs on my arms stood on end. That was reason enough for me to do something drastic, like break down her door.

Plus, her mum called me and said that Hermione had missed a luncheon date with her the other day. Her boss told us that she had missed two days of work without calling them. Even Malfoy came up to my desk this morning and said, "Well, Potter, she's your best friend. What are you going to do about it? Go find her. If you don't, I will." Since I didn't want Malfoy anywhere near her, I decided I had best come find her.

I looked up at the roof. I wondered if I would fit in her chimney. I was about to Apparate right up there when I heard her. She opened the window of her bedroom and called out, "What are you doing lurking around my house, Potter?"

"Lurking is an interesting word, Granger," I said back. I walked up to the window and said, "Is it lurking if I'm concerned for you? Everyone's worried about you. Your mum, your coworkers, even Malfoy, for some odd reason. Your boss personally asked my boss, the head Auror, to find out if something happened to you."

She looked away. "Marcus was worried?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said.

"I don't know why he would be," she said sarcastically. She had that funny, anxious, Hermione look on her face. I knew what that face meant, and I didn't like it, and I was going to ignore it for right now.

"Hermione, may I come inside. I hate talking to you from out here."

She nodded. I walked around to the front porch, jumped up on the side, and found the front door opened for me. Entering her house, I immediately knew something was wrong with her. Something had happened. The house was a wreck. It looked as if I had been staying there for a day or two. She was usually so neat and tidy. I bent down and picked up newspapers and magazines from the floor, then picked up plates and glasses. I took everything to the kitchen before I went to find her in her bedroom.

As I started to enter her bedroom, I stopped in the threshold, immediately, because she was doing something so intimate, so private, that I hated to interfere. In fact, she was doing something that I was self-conscious to see her do. Something that I knew she found incredibly embarrassing, and in which I had always found so incredibly awkward.

She was on her bed, on her back, her head on her pillows, her face all distorted, her hands clutched in the covers, and heaven help me, she was crying. Buckets full of tears. She was wailing. Bawling, actually. She wasn't crying gently or softly, or fleetingly. She was sobbing and weeping copious amounts of tears.

And I couldn't stand to see it.

"Hermione?" I asked. "What in the world is wrong with you?" I climbed on the bed, pulled her into my arms, and held her as tightly as I could. I rocked back and forth with her. My t-shirt was soon soaked. I couldn't understand most of the things she said, although words were coming through the tears. I heard sentences like, "I should have known better," and "Why can't I have what I want?" She even said, "Why does it have to hurt this much?"

Since I didn't know what we were dealing with yet, I couldn't answer any of her questions.

All I could do was hold her, dry her tears, brush back her hair, and kiss her tear soaked cheeks. My heart broke as her heart broke. Yes, she broke my heart.

How many times in our lives had I seen her cry? Too many times to count. I had seen her cry for little, unimportant, forgettable, mundane things. For example, when we were in school, she cried more than once because she didn't get a grade she thought she deserved on a paper or a test. She cried because someone, (usually Malfoy) teased her or called her names. Yet, other times when we were young, she would show the utmost courage and not shed one single tear. She fought by my side, against men twice her age, and she wouldn't cry one drop. She even looked death in the eye as a young girl and no tears fell.

She was an amalgam of many things, combined together, that made her the woman before me. I heard Malfoy call her a paradox the other day. I wasn't sure a person could BE a paradox, but I knew one thing, all the things mixed together that made her who she was also made her my best friend. They made her Hermione Granger. They made her the woman that I loved above all others.

Perhaps the feelings she invoked in people was the paradox, because she was the woman I wanted to put upon a pedestal, yet I wanted her by my side in the middle of a battle.

When her tears finally ceased, I asked, "What happened? Why are you crying?"

"Oh, Harry, it's all so stupid," she said with a sigh. I had heard her say that exact phrase many times before. Sometimes when she said it, _it was stupid_. That day when she said it, I knew that it undoubtedly WASN'T stupid, or trivial, but merely something that she was embarrassed to share with me.

I brushed back a strand of hair that was stuck to her wet check and laughed. "Remember that time when I found you crying by the Black Lake, I think in second year, and I asked you what was wrong, and you told me the exact same thing. I should have listened to you then, because you were right. You said 'Oh, Harry, it's all so stupid,' and you held out the word stupid, and I remember that I wanted to laugh, yet you had tears coming down your face, so I knew it wasn't stupid."

She giggled, her fingers playing with the design on the front of my t-shirt. "Yes, and you kept prodding and probing until I told you why I was crying. I think you were convinced that someone had called me 'Bucktooth Beaver' again or some such twaddle, and I was so mortified to really tell you why I was sobbing, yet, I felt I had to tell someone, and after all, you were my best friend."

I laughed, low in my chest, and said, "I still am, but nothing prepared me for what you had to tell me that day! I think you ruddy well scarred me for life!"

She laughed with me, sat up, and hit my chest. The smile on her face made me feel better, even if she didn't feel any better. She snapped, "Show some sympathy, Mr. Potter. I was as mortified as you were!"

"I doubt it," I returned. "Here I was, a twelve year old boy, holding the hand of my thirteen year old best friend, who just happened to be a girl, and she ends up telling me an embarrassing tale about how her menstrual cycle had just started, and she was afraid for goodness sakes!"

We both laughed hard at that memory.

"I was the one that was scared!" I continued, "I didn't want to hear that sort of thing! I didn't grow up with sisters, or a mother! I didn't even want to think about you having a period, or breasts, or any of the like."

She sighed a long sigh that ended with a laugh and deduced, "You asked, and I told you. I didn't have my mum there, and I was too embarrassed to go to the Mediwitch. I didn't want to talk to the other girls about it, because most of them had already gotten their periods, and I had lied and told them that I had already gotten mine, so I couldn't very well go to them and tell them that I hadn't until then." She cuddled closer to my chest. I wanted to hold her forever. "But, as shocked as I know you were, and as embarrassed as I was, you handled it with aplomb. Even though I knew all I needed to know, and I was prepared, you still convinced me to go see Madame Pomfrey."

"That's because I didn't want to have to talk to you anymore about it," I admitted truthfully. We continued to hold each other, on her bed, for a long time. Finally, I knew I had to find out what was wrong with her this time. I had a feeling it wasn't something to do with her period.

I said, "It can't be that bad, this time, can it? I mean, we've already dealt with blossoming womanhood. I've helped you with your breakup with Ron. We've been through torture and mayhem together. I figure I can handle whatever you have to tell me."

She started to cry again.

All sorts of things went through my brain. Was she sick? Had someone hurt her? Please, tell me. Tell me.

She said, "It's nothing serious. It doesn't warrant your concern. I'm sorry I worried you, but frankly, I need to be alone right now. I'm sorry you bothered coming all the way out here, really, I'm very sorry, but it's not your concern."

I didn't agree with her, I didn't understand, and I really didn't want to leave her alone, but I would. I stood up, smiled down at her, and stroked my index finger across her check. I leaned down and whispered, "If you change your mind, and you need me, call me. I'll be here in a heartbeat. I promise. Even if you don't want to tell me what's wrong, that's fine. We wouldn't have to talk. I would just come to hold you, if you'd like. I'll go now."

I stood back up. I started to turn to go, but I felt a brush of her hand against my arm. Her fingers moved slowly down to curl around my fingers. Her palm pressed against mine. She looked at me with an expression that I couldn't quite place, and I _always_ knew all of her expressions. A faint smile came to her face, and then tears started anew.

A strange surge of awareness powered through my body. It almost hurt how much I wanted to protect and take care of her. I wanted to hold her in my arms, to offer her comfort, an embrace, and a shoulder to cry upon, but by all that was righteous I also wanted to offer her passion and desire and so much more.

Looking down at her, I almost asked her once more what she wanted, what she needed, but then she said, "Harry?" in a questioning way. In that instant I knew what she wanted. I knew what she needed. It wasn't exactly what I wanted and needed, but what I wanted and needed wasn't important at that moment. At that moment, all that mattered was her needs, and she needed a friend.

I crawled back into the bed. She turned to her other side, away from me. Her hand still firmly in mine, I pulled her back against my chest and I rubbed her arm and leg and back. I kissed her hair, and even her shoulder. She continued to cry until she fell asleep.

I never found out that day why she was crying. On that day, it didn't matter. Because I knew she wasn't going anywhere, and neither was I. There was always tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5 Listening Draco Malfoy

**All characters belong to JKR **

**Chapter 5: Listening – (as listened by Draco Malfoy)**

**I DON'T HAVE MANY ADMIRABLE TRAITS.** I'm selfish and egotistical. I'm spoiled and self-centered and rotten to the very core. I'm vain, conceited, and I truly believe in my little black heart that the world revolves around me. I'm good looking, intelligent, and have a rapier wit. One other thing that I am is a very good listener.

I listen and observe. It's something that my old man taught me. "Listen, Son, even when others think that you're not paying them any mind, be sure to listen and observe," he used to say.

I've always had the ability to observe things though others assume I'm in my own realm. I appear aloof or unaware, when in actuality, I'm taking everything around me into account.

Such was the scene that played out after the staff meeting on Monday morning. Granger finally decided to appear back to work. She looked worse for wear. She was haggard, drawn, gaunt, and frankly, sad looking. It drawled on something deep inside me – an emotion long dormant or perhaps never used. I believe the emotion might be called sympathy. Yes, I felt sorry for her. I wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her it would be okay. I wanted to sooth away her sorrows, unruffled her feathers, chase away her demons, and fight all her foes.

However, this was Hermione Granger. And I was Draco Malfoy. Therefore, such things couldn't happen, at least not yet. Instead, I watched her, and I listened and observed.

The first thing I observed was that she sat next to me again. Not in front of me, as usual, but next to me, as she did last time. She offered me a small smile. I leaned over and said, "Bloody well time you came back to work. I had to take over your case load."

She smiled again and nodded. What? She should give me a good tongue lashing for being such a prick. (Ah…the mental image I conjured with that double entendre was shocking even to me.) Seriously though, when I spoke to her that way, she would usually have a handy barb to offer me, but instead she smiled and nodded. Then she pulled off her glasses and placed them on the desk in front of her.

I took them from her again and stuffed them in my pocket. The meeting was a quick one, thankfully. Afterwards, 'Wanker Supreme', also known as Marcus Flint, our supervisor and all around arsehole, asked Granger to say behind. She walked up to the front of the meeting room, where he stood in all his feigned glory at a podium of all things.

I pretended to straighten my notes so that I could lag behind unnoticed. After my papers were straightened, I dropped my pen. I tied my shoe. In other words, I stalled for time, while I listened and observed.

"How are you doing?" Marcus asked her.

"Fine, Marcus, I'm fine," she said, obviously agitated.

He leaned closer to her and said, "You had me worried."

"Really?" she offered, somewhat off handed. "That's odd."

"Hermione, please, don't be that way," he said. His voice lowered, but I could still hear him. I bent down at the waist to tie my other shoe. "It's not that I don't care for you, because I do. I would be a fool not to care. Any man would be a fool not to want you, Hermione. I'm doing this for you, and someday you'll thank me. Please, try to understand."

She backed away and her voice rose slightly. "Understand? What is there to understand? You couldn't make me understand something so insane! I told you I loved you and you told me you loved me, so I don't see what there is to understand. I'm confused. Usually when people love each other they show it with intimacy, but yet, you don't want me that way. What is there for me to understand?"

At that moment I really wanted to sink into the floor. What had I just heard? I popped my head up and both Granger and Flint looked over at me, shocked that I was still in the room. Hell, I was a bit stunned, too.

"Why are you still here, Malfoy?" Flint asked.

"I was tying my shoes," I said. Not a lie, so there.

"Get out," he ordered.

"Fuck you," I said back. Okay, I only said that in my mind. He was my boss, after all. I stood up and said, "Fine, I'm leaving."

I got as far as the door when Hermione called out my name. "Draco?"

I turned around.

"Please don't tell anyone what you just heard," she requested.

Now, here was the thing. I'm a good listener, right? But I'm even a better talker. I love to tell people everything that I hear. I'm a gossip. So what? I find enjoyment spreading tittle-tattle, even lies sometimes. It makes me somewhat happy. And this was a nice, juicy little piece of gossip and she just asked me not to tell anyone.

I looked into her big brown eyes and for once in my miserable existence I said, "I promise I won't say a thing."

"Will you wait for me?" she asked. "I'll walk back with you." I watched as she walked up to the podium. She whispered something else to Marcus. Of course I tried to hear, but she spoke too softly. Marcus nodded, cupped her cheek, and smiled at her. Then he leaned over and kissed her other cheek. It made me blanch.

She walked slowly toward the door, head down. When she reached the doorway she looked up at me and said, "I'm ready to go."

We walked for a while down the long corridors of the Ministry, toward the lifts to go back to our floor. She asked, "Do you want to take the stairs?"

Did I want to take the stairs? Did I want to prolong my time alone with her? "Sure, why not. I could use the exercise," I lied. I was in perfect health.

I pushed the stairwell door open and she walked in before me. I slithered in after and without permission my hand went to her arm and I slipped her heavy bag off her shoulder and hoisted it onto my own. We started walking up the stairs, side by side. I had to go slower than usual, to match her gait. When we reached the first landing she turned to me.

"I was dating Marcus, did you know?"

"I didn't know until now." I leaned against the wall with my shoulder. I dropped her bag and crossed my arms. "You could do so much better."

"Apparently," she said with a slight laugh.

"Did the bugger break up with you?" I asked. I couldn't believe such drivel.

She leaned on the wall with her shoulder. We stood face to face, except she was looking at my chest, not my face. In an act of lunacy (daring?) I reached for her chin and pointed her face toward mine so that our gazes locked. "He did. He broke up with me. He loved me, or said he did, but he doesn't want the same things I want. He's a good man, and he was being honest with me, but it still hurts."

"Of course it does," I said. My hand left her chin reluctantly. I let it drift to her shoulder. I kept it there. I started to massage her shoulder slightly. Mostly just my thumb moved. The hand that was next to the wall moved to seek out her hand against the wall. I clasped that hand in mine, while my other hand remained on her shoulder, my thumb still moving back and forth.

She looked so weary. I wanted to absorb some of that weariness. She must have sensed that because before I knew what was happening, her head dropped, she closed the gap between us, and her cheek was on my chest. She started to cry. Her arms went around my waist. I left my arms hanging for a moment. I didn't know what to do.

Finally, my arms went around her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. I patted her back. I tried my best to comfort her. I said little words and phrases that I can't even repeat because they sounded so foreign the first time I said them to her, that I don't even think I could say them again.

I found one hand stroking her hair. I asked, "What things did you want that he didn't?" Sex was apparently one of them, as I knew from my little eavesdropping expedition after the staff meeting. Was the man mad? Was he a nutter? Was he gay? Who wouldn't want this woman?

She sniffled and looked up at me. Gads, her breasts were pressed against my chest. Her mouth was glistening wet and swollen from crying. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to lick the tears off her cheeks. I wanted her so badly. She said, "I wanted marriage, children, everything most woman want, but sometimes won't admit. I want my career, too."

"He didn't want to marry you?" I asked with a frown. I still didn't quite understand. Where did the sex part play in? I held her tightly still. Her hands were now on my chest. She was leaning back against the embrace of my arms.

"He didn't want marriage, or children. He didn't even want to…" she faltered.

"Go on," I urged. In my mind I finished the sentence for her. In my mind I said, 'He didn't want to have sex with me because he's a eunuch.'

When she finally finished the sentence on her own, I questioned my world renown listening ability, because I was certain that I heard wrong. Because she said, "He said he didn't want to take my virginity if he had no intentions of marrying me."

HER WHAT?

I know I stared blankly at her for a good solid ten seconds. Even worse, Harry Potter, the git of the century, took that moment to eavesdrop on his own. He stood on the stairs above us. He also heard her admission. I looked up at him and he looked as shocked as me. Of course, some of his shock might have been because I was holding his best friend in an intimate embrace.

I saw Potter slink off, like the brave little Gryffindor that he was…not. I looked back at Hermione. She didn't see him. Her head was on my chest and she was crying new tears. This was a new and strange development. She was twenty-six years old. How in the hell was someone like her, at her age, still a virgin?

I decided right then and there that I was going to do something about ALL of her problems. I reached for her face with both hands, and dried her tears with my thumbs. I looked down at her with a grin and said, "He's a bloody fool. You're the sweetest, smartest, bravest, prettiest woman I've ever known, and if he didn't appreciate what was in front of him, then as I said, he's a fool."

She tried to smile, she really did. I realized at that moment that I was going to kiss her. Call it a prelude of things to come, if you will. My hands were still on her cheeks and something kindled inside me. A flame, a spark, something intense and I couldn't stop it. The mere feel of her skin on my skin made me want my lips on her lips.

She was all light and goodness and more than I could imagine. Her chest pressing against mine made it impossible to distinguish her heartbeat from my heartbeat. I lifted one finger to her lips, and touched it lightly, when she said, "Draco, are you going to kiss me?"

I heard her question. I'm a wonderful listener. I couldn't remember the last time I heard something so deafening and joyous in my brain. The sound of her words clanged loudly, wistfully, making me wish that I was something more than I was...something good instead of bad.

My lips went to hers. She tasted like her salty tears at first. I didn't care. I loved the taste of her, and the smell of her. She clenched the front of my shirt as my arms went tighter around her. I drew her against me as my tongue brushed the outer rim of her bottom lip. She opened her mouth slightly and my tongue swiped at the inside contour of her upper lip as well.

As stated, I was so many things. One that I omitted earlier was this: I was a fabulous kisser. Everyone told me so. And I enjoyed kissing. Sometimes I enjoyed it as much as having sex. But still, this was different. I wasn't enjoying this. I was enraptured by this. This was different. Everything was different: the friction of our tongues rubbing against each other, her soft moans, her hands coming around to the back of my neck, my hands coming to her face.

It was gentle, soft, kind, sweet, and full of desire, and unfortunately, it only lasted less than a minute. I didn't let it get too far. I didn't get carried away. Because, as I said, this was different. I knew it was, and I wouldn't spoil things.

I pulled my head from hers. I listened to the ragged sound of her breathing. I compared it to the sound of mine. I listened for her heartbeat. I listened for an apology from her, or regret, or a reprimand.

None of those things came.

Instead, she cupped one of my cheeks and rose up on tiptoes to kiss the opposite cheek, just as Flint had done to her earlier. Without another word she bent at the waist and grabbed her bag and scampered up the stairs quickly with only one backward glance. Then she looked back at me and smiled.

She smiled. I didn't need ears to listen for that. I only had to see.


	6. Chapter 6 Feelings Harry Potter

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 6 – Feelings –(as felt by Harry Potter)**

**EVERYONE HAS ALWAYS EXPECTED ME** to be perfect all the time. I'm never supposed to be angry. I'm never supposed to be afraid. I'm not allowed to show any emotions at all. For the most part that has been fine with me. I usually like to keep my feelings to myself. I prefer to keep them hidden away, or rather, behind an imaginary armor that I placed around my heart years ago.

It wasn't that I didn't feel things. It wasn't that I didn't _want to_ feel things. I did feel things. I felt them acutely, severely, and I reacted honestly in regard to them. I would even say that I usually wore my heart on my sleeve…it was just that usually my heart and my sleeve was covered by that same armor that I learned to put up from the time I was a small boy.

When I was little, I used to cry for a mother that I never knew. I wanted a mother's arms to hold me, and to comfort me when I was afraid, or hurt, or sick, or sad. Instead, I was treated with cruelty and hatred. I was made to feel like I was a burden and that I wasn't loved, wasn't wanted, and didn't belong. That was when I grew the 'armor'. The armor was an imaginary shield that went around my heart and it protected me from feelings. It protected me from my own and from those of others.

I was still able to feel empathy. I was still able to react correctly to the hurt, sadness, and injustice of others. It was only when it came to me that I blocked it all, turned it away, and protected it with a fake shield around my heart.

It was like this: when I was small the only time I was truly able to 'feel' was when I was all alone in my little cupboard under the stairs. Later in life, when I was no longer hidden away in the cupboard under the stairs, I no longer had a hiding place in which to feel, so my feelings had to hide deep within me.

It wasn't that I didn't cry when my friends cried, because I did. It wasn't that I didn't cry when my friends died, because believe me, I've cried a bucket of tears for the people that I've lost, and for the ones I've never known. But even when I cry for the loss of a loved one, I feel selfish. I shouldn't 'feel' anything. What right do I have to feel?

I'm tired of putting on a happy face. I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of being a savior. I'm tired of wearing a crown. My crown was always made of tin, not gold, and it's tarnished and worn after all these years. It was time to put it on the shelf, along with the armor around my heart, and just be plain old Harry again.

When I saw Hermione in the arms of Draco Malfoy, a man that I truly have hated most of my life, as much as it pains me to admit that I can hate, something inside me shattered. It wasn't my heart. It was deeper than my heart. It was more like my soul. I felt as if my soul was wrenched out of my body and was crushed and then shattered into a million little pieces. The shield covering my feelings couldn't have protected me against such a sight, such a feeling, such an invasion.

I felt broken. I felt angry. I felt jealous. I felt…well, I FELT.

God help me. I lost her before I ever had her. It was my fault. I didn't even know what she meant to me until it was too late. Or perhaps I've always known and wasn't able to feel it until now.

When we were very young, and just started school, there was no question that Hermione Granger was one of my best friends in the world. I used to imagine that she was my long-lost sister. I thought perhaps we would discover that she was adopted, or I was, and somehow we would find out that we were really siblings. She was almost a year older than me, so it was possible.

A few years later, I started to see Hermione differently. Everyone did, though few people talked about it. I knew Ron liked her as more than a friend, though he wouldn't admit it. I also knew that several other Gryffindor boys had crushes on her, though again, no one would say anything outright. It was because she was something special, someone different, and so no one would admit how they felt. Then Victor Krum came along and everything changed.

Everyone finally thought, hell, if he could admit to liking her, (international Quidditch star and all) then everyone else could admit it, too. Ron finally admitted it to me. I was speechless, mainly because I felt the same way. But Ron was my best mate, and Hermione was my best 'girl' friend, so if they liked each other that way, so be it.

For one thing, I knew I had a task to finish. I didn't even know if I would live or die. It was a lot to place before a young boy. It was a heavy weight on my shoulders, but it was my life and all I ever knew. Back then I dared not think of a future, especially one with Hermione.

In addition, I started to see Ginny Weasley differently. She had always liked me, and to be truthful, I liked that she liked me. She was sweet, daring, smart, and a hell of a Quidditch player. And more important, she never argued with me. She didn't challenge me. She didn't question everything I did. No, those things were left to Hermione Granger. Yes, for a while, I think I hated Hermione, because she was my conscience when I frankly just wanted to be a teenage boy with hormones.

When we went for the Horcrux search I left Ginny behind. I missed her, but I had to admit, there were times I didn't even think of her. I didn't miss her the way I should have. Ron and Hermione grew closer, and even with my protected heart, I resented both of them. I thought it was the best thing for all of us when Ron left us. For one thing, he really wasn't much help in the beginning, though later he saved my life and I would be forever grateful.

But when he left and it was just Hermione and me, everything changed. It was just the two of us, alone. Yes, we were tired, scared, and weary. Yes, we didn't know what we were doing. Yes, every day was fraught with tension and fear. Nonetheless, we were together. She never thought about leaving me. Ron begged her to go with him and she refused. Though she cried and cried after he left, she stayed with me. She took care of me. She helped me and protected me.

I fell completely in love with her that year, and have loved her ever since. The only problem was that I was never been able to tell her and now I never will.

It was my fault. I've had every opportunity. She's not been with Ron for over two years. I've not actively been dating Ginny for six months. I could have told her how I felt many times, but I didn't. I was afraid. Imagine that. The Boy Who Lived, the man who killed Voldemort, afraid to tell a woman that he loved her.

I had no clue she was dating Marcus Flint. Where did that come from? No wonder she kept that secret to herself. No one would have approved. I think I'm more surprised of the fact that she admitted to Malfoy that she was still a virgin. I had never asked Ron about that part of his and Hermione's relationship, because frankly, I wouldn't have been able to handle it, but still, Ron alluded to the fact that they had, had sex many times.

What a pile of shite. Ron was such a wanker. I think I'll tell him that the next time I see him.

Why would she tell Malfoy that, though? I'm her best friend! She should tell me her secrets, not Malfoy, the bloody prince of darkness! He probably got evil Malfoy germs all over her today. I wonder if they kissed after I left them. They were embracing, and it looked as if they were going to kiss.

If he kissed her I will have to kill him. I've killed stronger men than him, so I have no qualms about killing him.

I couldn't even stay at work after I saw them. I had to tell my boss that I was sick. I was sick. I was sick in my heart. I was sick to my stomach. I left as soon as I could, went straight to my house, and with my bare hands I destroyed my entire living room and most of my kitchen. I broke my telly by throwing it across the room, and I liked my telly. I pulled down my drapes. I tore a pillow right down the middle and feathers went everywhere.

Now, as I sat among the rubble and ruin of what was once my already very messy house, I wondered what I was going to do. I could not let Hermione be with Malfoy. I could not let her give her virginity to him. Even if she wasn't meant to be with me forever, the least I could do for her was to be her first. Or perhaps, I should say, the least she could do for me was to LET ME be her first.

I needed to call her. I crawled around my floor looking for my phone, but it was probably broken anyway. As I crawled around I heard a gasp behind me. I looked up toward the foyer. God no. It was her.

"Harry?" she said with another gasp. "What happened in here?" She ran over to me, and since I was on the floor she knelt down and began to feel around my head and arms. "Are you hurt? Was there a fight? Should I call the Aurors?"

"I am an Auror," was the only thing I could think to say.

She sat down beside me and picked a feather out of my hair. She held it up to me and said, "Harry James Potter, what in the hell happened in here?" She looked around as she sat beside me on the floor. She gasped a few more times. She pointed to a place on the wall where my large plasma screen telly used to reside, and then she pointed to the floor where it lay in pieces.

"Oh my God, oh my God," she repeated. "You loved your television."

"Hermione?" I asked.

She looked at me, concerned, confused.

"Are you seeing Malfoy now?" I asked.

"What?" She shook her head and stood up. It was apparent that either she didn't hear me, or she was pretending that she didn't hear me. In reality, she was probably in shock. She was such a neat, tidy person that just the sight of my house in such disarray was probably causing her to have a severe anxiety attack.

I stood up as well and pulled on her arms. I forced her to face me. "Are you seeing Malfoy?" I demanded.

"In what sense?" she asked back.

"IN WHAT SENSE?" Was she barking mad? Was she dense now? Had some of Malfoy's 'stupid' genes rubbed off on her?

"ANSWER THE QUESTION!" I demanded.

Instead of answering my question she pulled her arms from my hands and started to pick up pieces of what I think might have been either part of my sofa or perhaps my coffee table. I wasn't sure and I didn't care. I grabbed her arm again and spun her around to face me.

"Harry, please, you're scaring me," she said in barely a whisper. "Please, tell me what happened here."

"I HAPPENED HERE!" I bellowed. "I lost my temper and I threw a fit and I tore up my house! So what? It's my house. They were my things to destroy if I wanted to! I have plenty of money to buy new things! I could even buy a new house if I wanted to! What I don't want is for you to be dating Draco Malfoy!"

After my outburst I wanted to sit down in defeat but there was no place to sit in the living room so I went to the foyer and sat on the stairs. I leaned my head against the wall. If I had a cupboard under my stairs I might have crawled into it. The only thing I had under my stairs was more stairs, leading to a basement, dammit.

Hermione stayed in the living room for a long time. She used her wand to right everything the best she could. I didn't care. I didn't care about anything anymore. In my mind she answered my question by NOT answering my question.

Finally, after an hour or so she came to sit beside me on my stairs. The stairs were narrow so she was very close. I looked up at her as she sat down. She smelled so good. Like cherries and vanilla crème. Damn.

I closed my eyes and placed my head back against the wall.

She placed a hand on my arm. "I'm not dating Draco Malfoy. He was very kind to me today. He was an available shoulder, so I cried on it. I did kiss him, though. I don't know why." She placed her head on my shoulder, her arm around me. "I shouldn't have. I did it because I wanted to, though."

"Why didn't you tell me you were dating Flint?" I asked. I placed my arms around her. Now we were holding each other. I liked it.

"Why didn't you tell me that you had feeling for me that went beyond friendship?" she asked softly.

I didn't answer right away. I decided to lie. "I don't."

"Why did you tear up your house?" She looked up at me. I looked at her. I knew she knew I was lying. She could always tell when I was lying. Double damn.

I swallowed hard. I wasn't ready to tell her how I felt. I just wasn't. Instead, I asked, "Is it true you're still a virgin?"

"My goodness, how do rumors spread so fast?" She pushed away from my arms and moved slightly so that she was facing me on the stairs.

"I overheard you telling Malfoy. I saw you two on the stairs," I admitted. "I can't believe you would tell him something so incredibly intimidate and not tell me!"

She started to stand. I could tell she was angry with me. I didn't care. I grabbed her arm to force her to stay. She sat back down a few steps lower than me. I moved so that I was behind her. Her back pressed against my chest. I placed my arms around her. "Is it true?" I asked.

"That you were eavesdropping, yes, I guess it's true," she said flippantly.

"Hermione," I warned.

She took a deep breath. "Yes, it's true. Commence with making fun of me."

I hugged her tighter. I whispered in her ear, "Why do you think I would make fun of you?"

"Well, wouldn't you? I'm twenty-six years old, for cripes sakes. Something's wrong with me." She pulled on a thread that was dangling from my sleeve.

I hugged her tighter and placed my cheek next to her cheek. "Nothing's wrong with you, but may I ask, why are you still a virgin?"

"I can't talk about it with you," she said in a voice that was so pitiful it made me sad. I don't know if it was the reflection of her voice, or what she said that made me the saddest.

"I'm your best friend," I reminded her.

She looked over her shoulder at me and in her ever insightful wisdom, which could only come from Hermione Granger, she said, "And is that all you want to be, Harry?"

"It's all you want," I replied, "so it's what I'll take. I would never do anything to jeopardize our relationship."

She suddenly pushed out of my arms, stormed down the rest of the stairs, and stood before me at the bottom. She pointed at me and said, "You know nothing, Harry James Potter! Maybe I **have** wanted more before, but I've never seen any indication from you that you ever wanted more! Have you ever thought of that? Maybe that's why I can't tell you certain things, because certain things have to do with you!"

What the bloody hell did she mean by that statement?

I held up my hands, in defense, and walked down the remaining stairs until I was standing right in front of her. "Okay," I said. I didn't know what else to say. A sudden surge of physical awareness washed over me the closer I stood to her. And then there was only one awareness – awareness of her, of me, of US.

"Where do we go from here?" I asked.

"I don't know," she responded, shaking her head. "I don't even know what you want. I don't know what I really want. It's all been too much. It's been a strange day, Harry." She seemed resigned. "If there was ever to be something between us, wouldn't it be awkward, and even a bit improper? I have to admit, there's been times in my life when I've loved you more than as a friend, and there's been times in my life when I knew that you loved me as more than a friend. The problem's always been that they've never occurred at the same time."

She looked up at the ceiling and laughed. "This is madness, insanity. We can't, I mean, we shouldn't, should we? I mean, I kissed Draco Malfoy today."

I groaned. "Don't remind me. I'll have nightmares about it forever! I bet they'll replace the Voldemort trying to kill me for eighteen years nightmares." I leaned against the wall and looked down at the floor.

"Well," she said slowly, "let me at least remedy that, and give you something to replace that nightmare." She placed one hand on my face. Her skin was warm. She leaned closer and her lips, partly opened, touched mine. They moved slowly over mine until my lips softened and opened beneath hers. And then it was done. Simple, sweet, but enough to arouse me beyond belief.

I thought it would be awkward to kiss her like that. It wasn't. It was more than I ever imagined, chaste though it was. She leaned into me, her arms going around my waist. I held her and placed another kiss in her hair, and then one on her forehead.

"What are we going to do, Harry?" she asked.

I usually asked her those types of questions. I hardly knew what to do. I did know one thing. Life was a short and fleeting. The people we became were formed from the life experiences that we lived. Joy wasn't part of the bargain, neither was happiness. If joy and happiness came our way, it was our choice to either grasp them by the tail and hold on for dear life, or let them pass us by and deny their existence. Either way, I couldn't deny the little piece of joy and happiness that she gave me with that one little kiss. It was enough to finally pierce my armor for good.

And it was enough for now.

_A/N: My beta said this was her favorite chapter! Poor Harry._


	7. Chapter 7 Nonchalant Draco Malfoy

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 7: Nonchalant – as portrayed (badly) by Draco Malfoy**

**ONCE UPON A TIME, AT A SCHOOL, **far, far away, I spied 'Her' as she sat alone at a long table in a library. She was in her natural habitat, with books, pieces of parchments, and quills all around her. She had a smudge of ink on her cheek and some on her fingers. She was oblivious to all those around her, immersed in her work as she was. Her wanker best friends were nowhere to be seen, so I decided to have some fun.

I walked by her table, nonchalantly, acting as if I was about to get a rather large tome down from a shelf. I gave another Slytherin a nod of my head and a smirk of acknowledgment. I picked up my 'fake' procurement, (I didn't really need to read a book on dragons of the low lying lochs of Scotland) and I sashayed by her table. I purposely knocked my hip against a chair on the opposite side of her, causing everything on her table to move slightly. She looked up, smiled, and then quickly frowned when she noticed it was me.

I frowned back at her, said, "Watch it Mudblood. Your table ran right into me." And then I sat at the table directly in front of her.

She opened her mouth to respond. No doubt to give me one of her clever barbs, or a glib response back. I expected something razor sharp and full of scorn and hate. It was what I craved back then. I wanted her attention, anyway I could get it. But instead of being rude in return to me, she sighed and said, "I'm sorry that my table bumped into your hip, Malfoy." She didn't say it sarcastically. She said it as if she was acquiescent and resigned.

I didn't like that. It wasn't a 'Hermione Granger' response, and I was worthy of the best she could give me, and all she gave me that day was a feeble, half-arsed apology.

I worked hard to act nonchalant in those days. The least she could have done was to rise to my bait and act harried and harassed and throw a cutting remark or two my way. But that one time, back when we were in school, she sighed and let it go.

She did the same thing today, and I didn't like it anymore today than I did when we were kids.

She seemed distracted all day. I decided to feign distraction as well. We kissed two days ago and so far she hadn't mentioned it, and in fact, she rather seemed as if she wanted to act as if it hadn't happened at all. She was acting rather, dare I think it, NONCHALANT about the whole effing episode. It was a bloody fantastic kiss, though I know I could do better if she would give me half a chance, still she acted as if it never occurred.

The day after 'it' happened she didn't even have the manners to come into work. I went to Marcus, complained that she was missing too much work lately, and he told me – get this – that I should mind my own business. I don't mind telling you that I felt like telling the bastard that she was my business, always had been, and always would be. When I asked Saint Potter where she was he had the gall to glare at me and instead of answering he gave me a rude hand gesture and walked away.

Then today she walked into the office we shared with two others, said hello to no one in particular, and since then she'd been sitting at her desk, working, acting all distracted and ambivalent and I don't like it at all.

I wanted to scream, "ACKNOWLEDGE ME, DAMN YOU!" but that would have been slightly rude, and a bit bent. Also, it would do nothing to nurture the 'nonchalant' exterior that I'd been cultivating since age twelve.

Therefore, when our two co-workers finally had the grace to scamper off to lunch I decided to catch her attention. I stood up, walked toward her, with a large file in my hand, and I bumped into her desk, soundly, actually hurting my hip.

She looked up, frowned, and then smiled. I smiled in return. "Your desk jumped right out and hit my hip, Granger," I teased, _nonchalantly._

"Right, well, sorry 'bout that, Malfoy," she said, reminiscent of her apology that day at school so long ago. Her smile faded and she looked back down at her desk. She picked up a Muggle pen and casually, dispassionately, almost indifferently, went right back to her work.

No bloody way. She wasn't acting nonchalant so much as she was blatantly ignoring my arse and I wasn't going to stand for it one second longer! I stood in front of her desk, my hands on my hips, and waited. She was smart. I knew she'd notice me in a minute or two. Sure enough she looked up in no time. "Was there something you needed, Draco?"

My anger was about to boil over, but seemingly without a care in the world, I said, "No, no, not really." I started back to my desk, when I forced a laugh to bubble up from my chest. It sounded like I was gargling or something. Feeling slightly embarrassed, but deciding that it was too late to turn back now, I continued my charade and said, "It's only, well, remember two days ago, when we kissed? Good times, good times indeed." God, I was so pathetic. I was the farthest from being nonchalant that I had ever been.

The only thing that saved me from committing 'Hermionicide' (_Definition: Death by embarrassment after having said awkward things to Hermione_) was the fact that she didn't seem to hear me. She was THAT distracted.

She looked confused and said, "I'm sorry, what did you say? I didn't hear you, Draco. I apologize. Could you repeat what you said?"

No bloody way, I thought. "How rude," I said as a cover.

She looked a bit taken aback. She stood up and apologetically she said, "I'm sorry, it's just that I'm a bit distracted today. Please, repeat what you said."

Ah…so she was distracted, not acting nonchalant. I thought I could tell the difference. "Why are you distracted?"

She gave me a guarded look, looked at the closed door of our office and then asked, "Do you really want to know?"

"Didn't I really ask the question?" I asked back, mockingly. Seriously, I was dying to know.

"Lock the door," she urged.

Acting as casual as I could, I walked over to the door and locked it, almost leisurely, though in my mind I was skipping over there like a little girl as quickly as my little girl feet would take me! Perhaps she was distracted because she was still thinking about our amazing kiss and she wanted to lock the door so we could repeat it!

I sashayed back over to her desk, sat on the top, my hip by her arm, looked down at her pretty little face, stared for a moment at my favorite freckle (the one on her chin, don't you know) and said, "Now, it's just us. Tell me, why are you so distracted, Granger?" I reached over and pushed a long curl off her shoulder, leaving my hand on her back for a moment. My fingers tingled from where they touched her, and I hadn't even touched skin on skin. I was so pathetic. At least I was alarmingly handsome.

I waited for her to answer. She seemed to mull things over in her head for a moment. Finally, she asked, "I don't know what to make of something. I'm confused."

"About?" I motioned with my hand for her to continue. If she was confused about kissing, I was her man. If she was confused about sexual positions, being the little virgin that she claimed to be, I was still her man, or I would be with no prodding at all, (well…maybe some 'prodding', _wink-wink, nudge-nudge_.)

She looked down. She wringed her hands together and made a moaning sound. I was a bit peeved and slightly concerned. I slipped my hand on her cheek, urged her face to look up at mine and said, "Spill it, princess. Does this have to do with our kiss?" Holy Hades, was she regretting it? Something, call it intuition, told me she was regretting it. I wish I hadn't bothered locking the door now.

She shrugged with one shoulder and said, "It sort of has something to do with our kiss, indirectly."

I felt like groaning, but hell, I was the king of nonchalance, so I had to act as if I didn't have a care in the world. I stood up, went back to the door, unlocked it, and said, "Don't let it worry you, Granger. It didn't mean a thing to me, so there's no reason for you to worry your bushy little head over it." There. I refused to let her give me a set down. If anyone was going to be set down, it would be _her by me_, thank you very much.

I went back over and sat in my chair, placed my polished, black boots on the edge of my desk, put my hands behind my head, and raised one eyebrow. I gave her a glare that stated: _"I'M STILL THE KING NONCHALANCE!"_

She looked hurt beyond description. She looked as if I had called her the "M" word or something. She looked as if I had killed her best friend. (A man can dream.) She looked the same as she had looked most of our lives when I had said mean and cruel things to her. She looked…she looked…oh, God, she looked the way she looked the other day when Marcus was an arse to her. I hated myself sometimes.

She stood up, nodded twice, and said, "I see, well, that makes things I bit easier perhaps for me. I was feeling confused, and a bit conflicted, because I was having feelings for you, but now that I know they aren't reciprocated, and that what I considered a really nice, wonderful kiss wasn't anything at all to you, then at least…at least…oh, hell." She sat back at her desk. All pretenses gone. Nonchalance never was her forte. Poor little Granger. She was in over her head. She was a nice person.

And I was a bastard who was mean to a nice person.

I watched her for a moment as she placed her little brunette head on the top of her desk, on her arms. She sighed, loud and long. I went back over to the door and locked it again with my wand. No one was getting in here until I said they could.

Then I went back to her desk and stood behind her. I placed my right hand on her right shoulder. I placed my left hand on her left one. I leaned down, close to her. Her hair tickled my nose. I smelled her scent. It was everything fresh and clean and right in the world. It was what I wanted and needed and craved. I said, "I'm a right bastard, Granger. I was trying to act all nonchalant, because I thought you were about to tell me that our kiss meant nothing to you. I'm sorry. I lied. You know how much I love lying. I love it almost as much as I love mirrors and money."

She looked over her shoulder and smiled at me. I winked at her, gave her shoulders a squeeze, and sat back on her desk beside her arm, just as I did before. "Let's start anew. I locked the door. You're confused. I'm listening."

She turned in her chair and looked up at me, her bottom lip in her teeth. Oh to be that bottom lip. To be those teeth. Whatever. I was a being a bit lascivious because I wanted to kiss her again. Finally, she said, "What if you started to see someone differently than you normally saw them. I mean, what if someone started to see you different. I mean…"

To silence her ramblings, I placed a single finger on her lips. "What are you trying to say? Are you trying to tell me that you see me differently than you used to, because that's a good thing. I would hate to think that you would kiss me feeling for me the way you used to…you know, full of hate and loathing and all." I smiled.

"I never hated you," she protested. I gave her a 'yeah right' look and she laughed and said, "I only strongly disliked you before."

"Hate," I leveled. "Say it with me. Hate."

"I didn't, and I'm not talking about you and me," she continued, "since I haven't hated you in eons."

"Good," I smiled. I brushed the back of my knuckles down her arm. Then I realized that I didn't know what she was trying to say to me. "What are we talking about, Granger. Help a bloke out here. You don't regret kissing me. I don't regret kissing you. You no longer hate me. I find myself tolerating you more than I should. So, why the question? Is it rhetorical? Are you asking for a reason that I kissed you?"

She let out a little moan. I felt my erection tighten behind my zipper at that moan. I imagined making her moan while she was underneath me, on top of me, beside me, around me, outside me. I know my eyes glassed over for a moment. I reached for her again and forced her to stand between my legs. I scooted back on the desk so that no part of her body was touching my legs, and I placed my hands lightly on her arms.

And I waited.

"Why did you kiss me?" she asked.

"I thought this had nothing to do with us," I replied.

"It didn't at first, but I find that I need to know now. Please, why?"

Should I tell her or not? This woman had the capacity to break my sodding heart right down the bloomin' middle and she would probably walk away unscathed, and while I could feign indifference, the mere thought of her stomping all over my heart and feelings caused me to tremble a bit in my boots. I felt like a scared little boy again. She held all the power. I liked having the power. I didn't usually give that right to someone else.

Still, I decided to be honest. Nonchalance was never really my true friend, anyway. It was more of an acquaintance that I could do without. I responded, "I kissed you because you needed kissed. I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. Hell, Granger, I kissed you because I've dreamt of kissing you so many times that it's pitiful."

She let out another little moan. That answer seemed to distress her. She actually leaned against me, her head ducked down so that her forehead touched my shoulder. Her arms slipped around my waist. _Now I was confused_. Was she giving me the brush off or not? Not to be out on the proverbial limb by my little lonesome, I finally asked, "Tell me why you kissed me? Was it because I was convenient? Was it to get back at Marcus? Are you having regrets, Hermione?"

She looked up at me suddenly. "You just called me Hermione."

"It's your name," I answered.

"You're making this difficult," she answered cryptically.

Her head went back to my chest. I hugged her tighter. I felt strange. I felt protective of her. I felt possessive of her. I wanted to ease her discomfort, even if it was at the cost of my vanity and reputation. With a muffled reply, she answered my question. "I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. I kissed you because I've always wanted to kiss you. Gee, Malfoy, I guess I kissed you because I've dreamt of kissing you so many times that it's shameful."

Her response almost mirrored mine. I felt my heart leap with a small feeling of joy, which she promptly squashed into literal pain when she said, "And that's the same reason why I kissed Harry the other day."

I pushed her away from me. I felt shocked. I felt angry. I even felt a bit disgusted, and dare I think it, dirty. After that I felt ashamed, because I felt that last emotion.

"You kissed Potter?" I jumped from her desk and began to pace around the room. "Why, I mean, seriously, why? Are you ill? WHY?" I let out a strangled noise and threw my hands up in disgust. "Please, tell me, did you kiss him before you kissed me, or after?"

"Why does that matter?" she asked, apparently perturbed.

"I want to know if I'm going to get 'boy wonder germs'!" I shouted.

"He asked almost the same damn thing about you and pureblood germs, or whatever!" she bellowed.

I decided to ignore her outburst and I asked, "How low can you sink to kiss Potter? He's your best friend, supposedly. That's like kissing your brother. That's like kissing your...your...your best friend or something! It's mean, yuck! It's so, so, disgusting! It's Potter!"

I headed toward the door. I unlocked it with my wand, turned back to her, and said, "Are you sure you're a virgin? It sounds more like you're a slag! Seriously, I need to know how desperate are you to kiss the king of the prats, Saint Potter?"

The Hermione Granger I knew from childhood returned, full of spit and vinegar, with a biting remark at her fingertips. She put on her best look of indignation, stood toe-to-toe with me, and said, "I don't know how to answer that, but why don't you answer me this. How desperate were you, Malfoy, to kiss the queen of the Mudbloods?"

She crossed her arms, jutted her chin out as far as it would go, and still standing toe-to-toe, waited for my response.

All sorts of things went through my brain. I had all kinds of evil things to say in return. I had stinging comments, mean responses, nasty remarks, all floating around my brain, but I didn't say a single one. It wasn't because I decided to put back my 'nonchalant' face. It was because for the very first time in my pitiful life I didn't want to respond.

I grabbed her, pulled her into my arms, and held her tight. I wasn't sure I could have let go if she had hexed me. She stood ridged and firm at first. Finally, she began to relax, and I let my hold relax slightly. I stroked her hair. I said, "It will be alright. We'll figure out what to do."

Lucky me, I picked the right thing to say. She began to cry. She clutched my shirt, her hands on my arms, and she said, "I really am confused. I didn't know he liked me like that. He says he loves me. I just don't know what to do. It's Harry. I couldn't hurt Harry anymore than I could cut off my own arm." She looked up at me. I brushed a tear from her cheek with the tip of one finger. She repeated, "Its Harry, and Draco, I love him, too, but I feel so confused. I don't know how I love him, and the thing is, I feel things for you, as well. Is something wrong with me?"

"No, not you, never you," I stated. I, on the other hand, had rotten timing. I had a feeling Potter did as well. If I had been more judicious, and hadn't kissed Granger in the stairwell for everyone and Potter to see, I had a feeling that Potter wouldn't have made his feelings known to Granger. Yep, Potter and I both had rotten timing.

Granger on the other hand, was akin to perfect. So, as casually as I could, I said, "Let's go to lunch, Granger. We don't need to talk about it anymore today. Let's just brush it under the rug for right now, alright?" Inside I was shaking. I was a bundle of nerves and raw energy. I wanted to settle everything immediately. I wanted to call Potter out, dual him, as barbaric as that sounded, take Granger away, and make her mine forever.

But she needed me right now. She needed me to act nonchalantly. I could do that for her. I would. I could. Because I loved her that much. I wondered how much Potter loved her.


	8. Chapter 8 Secrets Harry Potter

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 8: Secrets – (as revealed by ****Harry****Potter****)**

**I WISH HE HADN'T TOLD ME. **Sometimes Ron Weasley didn't have the brains that God gave a worm. He always was such a twit. If he had to tell someone his secret, why oh why did he have to tell me?

He couldn't tell Hermione, apparently, because the secret was from her. That left me. Of course, he could have kept the secret to himself. Usually secrets aren't shared, hence the reason they are called secrets.

However, he told me and now I felt compelled to tell someone else. I couldn't tell Hermione either, because of the same reason that Ron couldn't tell her. Therefore, I decided to tell Draco Malfoy.

The reason I needed to share this secret with Malfoy was complex. First, it had to do with Hermione, and I've come to realize that Hermione has feelings for the swine. Likewise, the secret Ron shared with me will also affect Malfoy, so being the honourable person that I am - I felt he had a right to know.

I don't like Draco Malfoy. I don't exactly hate him anymore. I would say that I hold a strong sense of disdain and contempt for the man. He was like a bad taste in my mouth that I couldn't quite get rid of, no matter what. Normally, I went out of my way to avoid him, but he was the only one whom I could share this secret, because sod it all, it was about him as well.

I walked into their office shortly after the workday started. Hermione wasn't at her desk. She was over by a file cabinet, reading a file. She must have sensed I entered, because she turned around and waved, but then went right back to her toil.

Malfoy looked up, scowled, made a noise that resembled a cat with a hairball, and continued to read the book that was in his lap.

"Malfoy?" I barked.

He totally ignored me, the jackass.

"Malfoy!" I huffed louder.

He looked up, took a deep breath, looked bored for a moment, looked at his fingernails, then with as much disdain as he could muster he looked at me and said, "Hark, did you call on me, Potter?"

"Hark?" I asked.

"Yes, hark, or in other words, what the hell do you want?" he snapped, closing his book and throwing it in the bottom drawer of his desk.

I made a motion toward the door with my head and said, "I need to speak with you in the hall."

Malfoy sneered at me, sat back as far as he could in his chair, propped his feet on his desk, and said, "No."

I rolled my eyes. He really was a prat. Hermione walked toward us and said, "So, what's happening here, gentlemen?"

I quickly said, "Nothing," even as the git, Malfoy, leveled, "Potter's trying to ask me out for a date, but I'm trying to tell him that I don't do men. Besides, I'm interested in someone else." Then he winked at her.

Hermione giggled, which made the arse, (Malfoy) smirk with joy. I felt like punching his face, hard. Instead, I said, "As if I would ask Malfoy for a date. Sorry, not that desperate, not by a long shot. I do, however, need to speak with the smarmy, little bastard."

"Harry," Hermione abolished, "That's not nice to call him names. He's not little." She turned her head and smiled at Malfoy. He smiled back. "He is, however, a smarmy bastard. Go talk to Harry, Draco, and then come back in the office and get to work. You've been reading that blasted book you put in your bottom drawer for days. It's time to put it away and do work in which you're paid to do. I know that book doesn't have anything to do with work."

"First, I don't get paid enough money to work. Second, you're not my boss so you can't tell me what to do," Draco said with an easy air.

Hermione placed her hands on her hips and said, "No, I'm not, but someone has to set you right, or you would never get any work done."

"She was always like this, wasn't she, Potter?" Draco inquired to me.

I had to nod and said, "If you mean bossy, yes, she always did like to tell others what to do. She always liked to get her way. She would be disagreeable otherwise."

"Hey, I'm not that bossy, Harry!" she volunteered. "Tell him I've not always been this bossy!"

Malfoy and I both laughed at that and instead of complying with her request, I looked at Malfoy and said, "You know she's always been bossy and domineering."

"Hmm, domineering, huh?" Draco regarded her for a moment and asked, "Are you this demanding and domineering in every aspect of your life? What I mean to ask is, are you a 'dom' with men, Granger?" He was twirling a quill around his fingers. His meaning was not lost on me. Now I felt like strangling him.

"Fine, I do usually want to be in control of everything," she said, innocently, ignoring his innuendo.

Malfoy smiled. "Then you admit that you're a dom?" He started to move forward in his seat, a smile still on his face. He knew she wasn't. He was the one who heard her confession about being a virgin. Why was he being so crass?

"A what?" she asked, a strange look on her face.

"Oh for goodness sakes!" I mumbled under my breath. I pulled on her arm, whispered in her ear, for only her to hear, "He's asking you if you're a dominatrix and if you're into S&M." Finally, Hermione understood and she blushed.

She gasped, pushed me away and stared at Malfoy before she stuttered, "You mean, a dominatrix? Oh, Malfoy, that's well, you know, well, that's…." she couldn't even finish. She blushed.

He stood up, stalked over to her and patted her cheek. Then he said, "Take a look at the book I just placed in my bottom drawer while I go out and talk to scarboy. It will give you a few pointers."

Hermione's mouth opened, as if she was about to protest, while I grabbed the back of Malfoy's shirt and forced him out in the hallway.

I pulled him slightly away from their doorway and let go of his shirt as soon as I could. First, I said, "You didn't need to be so crude with her."

"Shove it, Saint Potter. She knew I was joking. Unlike you, she didn't have a scar zap all of the humour out of her brain when she was a baby," Malfoy replied.

"Must you always comment on my scar?" I bellowed.

"I could comment on your dreadful wardrobe, if you'd rather," he said with a snide smile.

I merely glared at him, and then said, "Nevermind. I don't know why I thought I could tell you a damn thing. I thought you might actually care for Hermione and want to know the secret that Ron told me, but apparently you'd rather just stand here and trade barbs with me all day." I turned around and stalked off. He didn't follow.

Later that day, as I was sitting alone at my desk, Malfoy entered my office. There wasn't any other Aurors nearby at that moment, so we were alone. I looked up slowly and asked, "What do you want?"

"World Peace," he said glibly. He picked up a file from my desk and started to leaf through it. I grabbed it from his hands. He sat down in the seat in front of my desk. He looked all around. "Nice place you have here," he said derisively.

"Yeah, right, what are you doing?"

"I'm plotting your death," he mocked.

"What?" I asked, acidly.

"OH, you don't mean what am I generally doing with my life, right? You're asking more about what I'm doing at this moment. Oh, I misunderstood," he teased. He stood up and came around to the front of my desk, towing the chair with him. He placed the chair at the corner of my desk, so that we were closer, and he said, "What did you want to speak with me about earlier, Potter?"

I could have tortured him. I could have told him to go away, that I changed my mind, or that I had nothing to say to him. Nevertheless, I really wanted to tell him this. I rather needed his help to figure out what to do.

"This is difficult," I began.

"Yes well, talking never was your strong suit," he said.

"Listen, Malfoy," I huffed, "if you're going to keep going for the jokes, and not take this serious, I'm not telling you a damn thing. This is important. It's regarding a person that I believe we both care a great deal for, now, will you let me finish?"

He motioned with his hand for me to continue.

I decided just to go for it. I wasn't good at telling stories. I dealt better with facts. Therefore, I would present Malfoy with the facts. "Last week Hermione broke up with Marcus Flint after dating him for eight months. She wanted marriage, kids, her career, the whole thing. He was coming off a divorce, and didn't want anything serious. Also, as you know, she's still…" I faltered.

"Deflowered?" he offered with a sincere smile.

"Exactly," I said back, "And though she thinks that's the reason he broke it off, I rather think he was being honourable about the whole thing. He didn't want to get serious with her, he was seeing others as he was seeing her, and he didn't feel it would be right to be intimate with her, so he broke it off."

Malfoy made a face and said, "I still hate that bastard."

"As do I," I agreed. "Anyway, we also know that in her emotional state last week, she felt rather vulnerable, and was confused, and she ended up kissing both of us."

"You're saying she only kissed me because she was confused and emotional?" Malfoy asked with a sneer.

"You know that's the case, Malfoy, as do I," I said with a sigh. "Although, I also know that she has genuine feelings forming for both of us, because Hermione Granger wouldn't even consider kissing someone if she didn't care for them, vulnerable or not."

"And she kissed me first," he said snidely. He folded his arms in front of him, proudly. He smiled. And I've decided to amend my earlier statement. I hate him.

"Yes, she kissed you first, then me," I agreed, reluctantly. "Here's the thing, she had a long talk with Ron last night, to sort out all her confused feelings."

"Weasley?" he shouted. He planted his feet firmly on the ground, leaned forward in the seat and said, "Is she insane? He has the emotional depth of thimble."

I had to laugh. Hermione had said almost the same thing once. "Yes, I know, but apparently she couldn't speak to either of us about her problem, because we are her problem." There, I said it.

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

I suddenly felt like a thirteen year old giddy little girl who was about to share a juicy secret with her best mate, because I leaned closer and smiled and said, "She told Ron that she thinks she's falling in love with both of us!" I leaned back and smiled.

"WHAT?" He stood from his chair.

"Oh, sit down," I said with a frown. "Besides, there's much more to the secret."

He sat down quickly and said, "Tell me everything, and start at the beginning."

"Okay, she went to Ron's flat last night," I started.

"Where does he live?"

"How is that pertinent?"

"It will set the scene in my mind," he said.

"He lives in a flat above his brother's shop."

"A two roomer, or what?"

I frowned, but answered, "It has a bedroom, a living room, a bath and a small kitchen."

He pushed a piece of paper on my desk toward me and said, "Draw me the floor plan."

Was this man insane? I balled the paper in my fist and said, "May I continue?"

"Fine, go on," he insisted.

"She went to his flat and she started crying right away. She told him all about Marcus, then about how I found her crying that day. She told him that she was having confused feelings regarding an attraction toward you. She admitted that she was beginning to have a feeling that was more than friendship toward me. She couldn't understand how she could be upset about breaking up with Marcus, and have feelings for two other men. Ron said he felt so sorry for her, because she was so bewildered and sad."

"He didn't kiss her, did he?" Draco asked, a bit wide eyed.

I was quiet for a moment and said, "Hell, I don't think so. Why would you ask that?"

"Well, when you and I were being all comforting and sweet to her, we kissed her," he pointed out.

"First, you kissed her when you were being all sweet and comforting to her. She kissed me when she was being that way with me. I don't know which is better, but it doesn't matter, but it doesn't matter as it has nothing to do with them, because I don't believe they kissed. Although, you know they used to date, right?" I pointed out.

"Yes," he answered, "it makes my stomach churn every time I think of it. Go on with your story."

I had to stop for a moment. I wondered if Ron did kiss her. It seemed like something he might do, to comfort her, or take advantage of her. I would have to ask him later, and then kill him according to his response.

I said, "She was crying, complaining that she had budding feelings for the pair of us, and she didn't know what to do. Then she brought up the whole virgin thing to him."

"He must have already known about that, since they dated a while," Malfoy pointed out.

"He did. He said that she wondered if that wasn't getting in the way of everything. If that wasn't mucking everything up. She said that she felt if she could just…and he said this was her words…if she could just get the whole virgin thing taken care of, then she could be free to fully examine her feelings for you and me."

Draco had a look of utter distaste on his face. I know my look probably matched his. I knew he was already concluding my secret. "What happened next?" he still asked.

"She asked Ron if he would be the one to take her virginity," I said slowly.

Draco Malfoy, who was usually calm and collected, cool and unencumbered, suave and without reproach, backed his chair, which was on castors, toward the wall, scrambled out of it, fell in the process, and then from his place on the floor he yelled, "WHAT THE FUCK!" He stood up quickly, brushed off his trousers, and said, "Repeat that last sentence."

"I can't, because I have too much bile in my throat. Besides, you heard me," I said sadly.

"Why would she want Weaslebee to 'take away her virginity'? I mean, she's apparently been holding onto it all these years for some reason, so why give it away so freely now?" he asked. He began to pace in front of my desk.

I nodded in agreement. "Ron said the same thing to her. He even pointed out that fact that she told him that she wasn't truly in love with him when they were dating, hence the reason she wouldn't sleep with him back then. He told her that she should save herself for the man she loved and she started yelling and screaming at him like a shrew."

Draco laughed. "She can be right scary sometimes."

I laughed, too. "Agreed." Draco walked back over to his chair, brought it back in front of my desk, and sat back down.

"Okay, Potter, so what did Weasley tell her he would do?"

"He said he would think about it, but then he came and told me. He said that I needed to, oh, never mind," I said. I wasn't about to tell him what Ron said, because it wasn't something I was about to do anyway.

Draco glared at me and said, "What, you wanker? What did he tell you to do?"

Fine. I would tell him. "He told me that in his opinion, and after talking to Hermione for nearly four hours the other night, it was his opinion that I should back off, because I was only adding to her confusion, and I should let her see if she could find happiness with you, of all people."

Draco smiled. "I always liked that Weaslebee. Capital ideal. He's a great chap."

"I'm not about to do that," I warned. "I can't. I love her, Malfoy, and not just as a friend. Ron said that I'm just confused, too, that he still loves her also, but he knows he's not good for her, and that we shouldn't muck up the lines of friendship. He seems to think that if she and I gave it a go and it didn't work, that our friendship wouldn't survive. He said that the only reason their friendship survived after their breakup was because of their mutual friendship with me."

Draco looked serious for a moment. "He's probably right, Potter. Besides, do you really love her?"

"Yes, I just said I do. Do you?"

He nodded. "I do."

"Why?" I asked.

He huffed a small laugh and said, "Right, as if I'm going to explain myself to you. I don't have to justify anything to you, Potter."

"Maybe you do, because the way I see it, we're in this together at the moment," I said softly.

He regarded that statement for a moment. He picked up a quill from my desk. I noticed that he did that often. He picked up things, fingered them, and twirled them, when he was thinking. He placed it back down and said, "She makes me feel clean. She makes me feel like I can be a better man. She makes me happy. Just seeing her face makes me smile. I like to tease her, raise her hackles, because it's fun, but also because I love that little frown line that forms between her eyes when I do."

He continued, "I want to kiss that little frown line away. I want to kiss all her worries away. I love her freckles, especially the little one on her chin. It's my favourite. It's perfect. She's perfect. She's like sunshine after the rain. She's like the light at the end of a dark tunnel. I can't breathe when I'm not with her. I can't live when I'm not with her."

He suddenly looked embarrassed. He looked down, his hands wound tightly together. He was breathing hard.

I didn't know what to say. He described the way I felt about her exactly. God, Draco Malfoy WAS in love with Hermione Granger. I swallowed hard and said, "Ron said that if she asked again, he would probably not rebuff her. I don't think either of us want that, do you? I think her first time should be with one of us, because we love her, and she loves us. The question is which one?"

He looked up slowly and said, "That's the question, isn't it?" He stood up and started out of my office. He turned back and said, "Thanks for sharing the secret, Potter. I have one for you now. The gloves are off. I'm calling you out, so to speak. In modern vernacular, 'it's on'. I'm fighting for her to the finish, and I suspect you're about to do the same. I won't promise to fight clean, because you know me better than that. I'll fight dirty, I'll fight to the extreme, I'll even fight to the death, in a matter of speaking."

He turned away from me and when he got to the door, turned back one last time and added, "I love her and I intend to win her, Potter. I know you're going to do the same. I also know that all throughout our lives, you always won everything, while I lost. Well, I won't lose this time. I thought you should know."

He left my office and I hung my head. I wish I hadn't told him anything. I didn't have the brains that God gave a worm. I always was such a twit. If I had to tell someone Ron's secret, why oh why did I have to tell Malfoy?

I created a monster, and his name was Draco Malfoy.

* * *

_*A/N:Sorry so long for the update. If you are all nice to me, I might update the next chapter in two days!_


	9. Chapter 9 Questions Draco Malfoy

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 9 – Questions (as posed & answered by ****Draco ****Malfoy****)**

**EARLIER, WHEN I WAS SITTING BESIDE HERMIONE **at a Muggle café, I knew that I was staring at her like some lovesick fool, but I couldn't help myself. She was so pretty. Really, really pretty. She wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world, but she was definitely beyond cute. Moreover, to me she was the prettiest girl of my acquaintance.

Right before work was to end today, I asked her if she would like to grab a cup of coffee or tea with me when we finished work. I didn't say anything else. I didn't act as if I wanted to 'talk' about something obscure. I didn't act as if this was more than it was. I asked her out on a sort of date, and she looked at me blankly for a whole of five seconds, (which was agonizingly slow, count it with me...one second, two second, three second, four second, five second...see, an eternity) and then she said, "Yes."

I waited for her to finish her work. She always worked beyond the normal workday. I usually left work before the normal workday was finished. Today, I waited, and today, she finished up on time. At five o'clock on the nose, she looked up and said, "Are we ready to go?"

I liked the sound of being a '_we_' with her. It seemed right. I nodded, stood, and walked over to her desk, then offered her my arm. She looked at my arm, then into my eyes. She blinked several times and then placed her arm through mine. Right there in the office! _We_ walked that way all the way to the lifts and everything! I mean, people saw us! I felt elated. I felt like I was part of a '_we'_!

_We_ stopped at a little place right outside the Ministry. Many people from work go there, even though it was a Muggle establishment. There was an empty booth in the very back, and we made our way back there by weaving in and out of the throng of people. I even reached down and took her hand as we made our way through the crowd. My hand was perspiring slightly, which was embarrassing, but I hoped she wouldn't notice.

When we got to the booth, she sat down first and scooted next to the wall. Overall, I had three major dilemmas that day, and she had presented me with dilemma number one. I had to decide, off the cuff, whether to sit next to her or across from her. Now, a normal person would sit across from someone, date or not. Nonetheless, I've never been quite normal, and I wanted to sit as close to her as I could. I wanted to be able to reach out and touch her if I wanted. I wanted to be able to hold her hand, brush her hair out of her face, or kiss her cheek, if I so desired. I wanted to continue to feel like a 'we' instead of a 'her' and 'me'.

All of that would have been difficult whilst sitting across from her. Therefore, without fanfare or fuss I sat down right next to her, called the waitress over as quickly as I could, ordered one tall latte, half calf for the lady (I knew what she liked) and one black coffee with a hint of hazelnut, for me.

I placed my arm casually along the back of the booth, turned to her, and smiled. "Do you want to get a spot of food as well, or just the coffee?"

She gave me a look a couldn't decipher. She thought either I was a ranging lunatic, or she was contemplating nine different ways to get out of the booth in a hurry. She picked up a menu from behind the napkin holder and opened it. Right. So we were going to have a spot of dinner, too. Excellent, excellent.

The waitress brought us our coffee and asked us what we wanted to eat. I was peering over her menu with her. There were two menus, but I wanted an excuse to sit even closer to her. I told the old hag to give us a moment, and then we both went back to perusing the restaurant's fine fair.

I pointed to something stupid on the menu and asked, "Have you ever had that? It looks good."

She closed the menu, placed it back behind the silver napkin holder, placed her hands around her tall coffee cup and without missing a beat she asked, "Is this a date?"

"A what? No, you thought, what, a date, really, ha, I mean," I snorted a couple of times in the middle of my little rambling and finally I moved my arm from the back of the booth, placed both my hands around my mug and turned to look at my coffee, even as I answered, "Maybe." Gads…I was a pathetic.

Where was all the Malfoy charm? Where was the debonair air that usually surrounded me? I usually oozed magnetism, charisma, and easy-going affability, and here I was acting like a fool. I was acting like…ugh…Potter.

This led me to my second dilemma for the evening. I didn't know whether to save face and deny, deny, deny, or for once in my life be truthful. I turned to her slightly, placed my hand on her cheek, rubbed my thumb near her mouth and said, "It's not really much of a first date, but yes, I consider this a date of sorts, Granger, how about you?"

"It's a date of sorts," she agreed. She smiled and seemed to relax. She picked the menu back up, and when the waitress came, she ordered, as did I. I felt so relieved.

While sipping our coffee and waiting for our food, I decided to ask her some questions. "If I asked you for a real date, a nice date, dinner, dancing, the whole shebang, would you consider it?"

"I thought you said this was a date?" she asked with confusion.

I passed my hand before my face, in a sort of waving motion, and said as a joke, "Yes, yes, but it's really more of preliminary date, to set up rules and guidelines, and to see if dating you is even worth my while."

She gave me a penetrating smile and said, "And for me to see if dating you is worth my while, right?"

I smiled too, leaned forward, caught a scent of '_essence of Hermione'_ and said, "Exactly," then I leaned away and sighed. "Go on and answer my question, would you go out on a real date with me, to a fancy restaurant, let me spend loads of money on you, lavish tons of presents on you, share a nice kiss or two, and then perhaps see where it might lead us?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Good." We were getting off to a good start. I turned to face her slightly and asked, "Did that kiss we shared mean anything to you?" Gee, I didn't mean to ask that question quite so early in the question/answer portion of our evening, but since it popped out of my mouth, so be it.

"It was wonderful," she answered with a smile.

Now, here's the thing - If she had merely said that it was 'nice', I might have cut my losses right there, right then. If she had been too anxious, too eager, and had said something insincere like, _'It was bloody fabulous,'_ or _'I was gobsmacked by your technique,' _I would have left her, no more questions asked.

But she was as sweet and unassuming as ever. She was unaffected by things. She was genuine and engaging and honest and she said that kissing me was wonderful, and since I concurred (kissing her was wonderful as well) I decided to stay and ask more questions.

"Who did you like kissing better, me or Potter?"

Suddenly, her smile dissipated, as if someone took an eraser and wiped it right off her face. She didn't try to deny that she kissed Potter, oh no, not honest Hermione. Instead, she asked, "How did you know that I kissed Harry?"

Thankfully, our salads came right at that moment. I speared some greens on my fork and without looking up I said, "He might have mentioned it. He knows you kissed me too, you know."

She folded her arms in front of her, leaned back in the booth, pushed her salad away from her and said, "I know. He and I talked about it a bit. The thing I want to know is why were you and Harry talking about my kissing the other one of you?"

My third and final dilemma was staring me smack dab in the face and I was going to ignore it. I pushed my salad away, to form the words carefully in my mind. I didn't want to come off as the villain in this piece, but if she knew Potter and I were talking about her virginity and her secret conversation with Weasley, she would be angry, and she wouldn't only be angry with Harry. She would be angry with me as well. She might even be embarrassed, and in her embarrassment she might run away and sulk, and decide that it wasn't worth seeing me anymore.

I couldn't have that.

So I decided to lie. I opened my mouth to lie, but I couldn't. I didn't want to build a relationship with her on lies, and I most definitely wanted to build a relationship with her. I also didn't want to act flippant, or play if off as unimportant, so I said, "Potter was concerned for you."

She continued to glare. Her arms were still folded across her chest. She had a nice chest, by the way.

She apparently wanted me to continue. The waitress brought the rest of our meals, saw that we hadn't touched our salads, asked us a question, to which we didn't answer, and so she placed our plates on the table and left.

"Potter and I were talking about you, because we were both concerned," I said honestly, not knowing if I should continue talking or not.

Her arms unfolded slowly, gently, as if someone was letting all of the air out of her sails. She looked down at her lap and asked, "What were you talking about, with Harry, in regards to me?"

"Your proposition to Weasley," I said softly.

She looked up quickly, shocked. Now she looked as if I struck her on the face. The pain I saw etched there would live in my mind forever. "What proposition?" she asked breathlessly.

"You know, concerning…" I made a crude motion with my hands, something like one fingering going back and forth inside the circle of another, and I made a whistling sound. I really was pathetic. She continued to look at me stunned, so I finally eeked out, "Your virginity, you know."

She gasped. Then gasped again. Then thrice. The next thing she did surprised me most of all. She pushed me, with all her might, right out of the booth, onto the floor, where I landed with a thump. She grabbed her purse, said something about killing someone or other, and ran out of the café, leaving me with no dignity, on the floor, where I was sure I belonged.

"Cheque please," I said to the waitress from the floor.

I walked around Muggle London for hours, knowing that I had ruined it with her. She would never consider me as anything even remotely resembling a friend, let alone a boyfriend or a lover. Why should she? The fact that Potter and I were talking about something as private and intimate as her virginity really was unforgivable. I wondered where she was. Had she gone to confront Scarhead? After all, it was really his fault. He was a bad influence on me, he was. If he hadn't wanted to have a little sharing session earlier, I would have been just fine being in the dark about everything.

Of course, I also might never have asked her out on a date.

And look how wonderful that turned out. I really did hate Harry Potter. Very much. With a passion. Damn forehead scarred freak.

I ended up back at the Ministry. I walked into our department, opened the door to the small office I shared with her and two others, assumed I would be by myself that time of night, and was shocked at what I saw. Hermione Granger was sitting at her desk, her head on her arms, and she was crying.

Furthermore, I was the cause.

I walked up to her slowly. I placed one hand in the mass of brown curls. God, I loved her hair. Let's be real, I loved everything about this woman. I leaned down, stroked her hair, and whispered in her ear, "I'm so sorry, Granger. I'm a cad, and so is Potter, and probably Weasley, too. We shouldn't have been so cavalier about your virginity. It's private. It's your business, well, except you sort of made it all of our business when you mentioned it to us."

She looked up. I removed my hand. "You are SO not helping me feel better about myself."

"How about this," I said with a grin. I sat on her desk. "Look on the bright side, Granger. At least now that it's out in the open, you have your choice. You don't have to settle on Weasley. If you want, I'll be your man. I'm up for the job." I nodded in affirmation and pointed my thumb toward my chest. "I could even give you references, if you'd want."

She couldn't help but to smile. "This isn't a joke."

"Do you see me laughing?" I said, though I was smirking, I wasn't laughing. "I know it's not a joke. Believe me, if you pick me, you'd know it's not a joke, either."

"Draco, stop making fun of me," she moaned. She placed her head back on her arm and sighed, "I could kill Ron. How could he tell Harry? How could Harry tell you?"

"Because, as much as it pains me to admit this, I'm on a new truthfulness kick when it comes to you, darling girl," I began. I pulled her up by her arm, and forced her to stand between my legs as I sat on her desk. "The reason Weasel told Potter, and Pothead told me, is because we all love you."

If I thought she looked traumatized earlier at the café, I was wrong. The expression she wore right now was the epitome of shock. She let out a long breath and said, "I know Ron loves me still, perhaps as more than a friend, and maybe he always will, and Harry already admitted his feelings to me, but you don't love me, Malfoy. Get real. You act annoyed by my mere presence half of the time."

I brushed a stray hair from her cheek, left my hand there for a moment before I moved it down her cheek, to her neck, to her shoulder and answered, "The truth is you annoy me more than half of the time, but I know how I feel. I love you. I do. I have for a long time. I never meant to act on it. I never meant to admit it. Perhaps if certain things hadn't played out as they had the last few days, I still wouldn't have, but I love you, Hermione."

She continued to shake her head no. I continued to nod my head yes. "I do, too," I continued. I stopped the movement of her head with my hands framing her face. I leaned in, kissed her mouth slowly, softly, absorbingly, (Yes, I meant to say absorbingly, because it felt as if I absorbed her with my kiss) and when I stopped kissing her I said, "I haven't loved very many people in my life, so give me credit for knowing when I love someone. I've loved my mother, my father, and gee, you."

"And yourself, don't forget," the cheeky little thing said with a smile. I really did love her.

"Right, and myself," I agreed, truthfully. I placed my forehead on hers. I closed my eyes. "I know you're confused right now. I know I've given you even more to consider and be perplexed about. I know your massive brain is going over all the facts right now, and you're probably close to exploding, and I'm sorry to add to your confusion." I smiled at her. "I'm sorry to add to your pain. I meant to take this slow, date you, and then admit how I feel, but I ran out of time. I can't waste a moment. I don't want you to make a mistake. Pick me, Granger. Pick me."

My hands were on her shoulders. She placed her hands up on my wrists and moved them down. She slipped her hands to mine, and clasped them tightly. She came forward and relaxed against my chest. "I don't know what to do. I have feelings for both you and Harry. I thought if I could resolve the whole virginity issue, I could clear my mind and pick who's best for me."

"I'm best for you. Pick me. Please." I urged. I pleaded. I begged. I no longer felt pathetic. I was fighting for my life here, but more than that, I was fighting for what was right.

"I don't know what to do. I want my first time to be with someone I love. That's why I've waited this long. I thought I loved Marcus, but the truth is that I didn't, not really. I don't want my first time to be with Ron. If I did, I would have made love to him years ago, but how can I pick you over Harry? The thing is I do love you, Draco. I know it's quick, but I do. I love Harry, too. I really don't know what to do," she said sadly, as she finished her ramblings. She hugged me tightly around the waist. Thank goodness, she didn't start crying again.

She ended with, "I need to think about things, Draco. Give me time to think."

"I can't give you much time," I warned.

"You can't?" she inquired, her head still on my chest.

Hell, whom was I kidding? I would give her anything she asked for, because as much as I despised Potter, I loved her even more, so if she asked for me and Potter together, I would probably even give her that, although I wouldn't tell her so, at least, not yet.


	10. Chapter 10 Feminine View Hermione

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 10 – A Feminine Point of View – by Hermione Granger**

Sometimes I felt weary to my bones. Sometimes I felt as if no one really loved me. Perhaps it was hormonal, or perhaps it was the truth, but I was feeling especially unloved today.

I also no longer felt sure of myself, and I think I hated that most of all. I used to always feel confident. Even if I wasn't well liked, at least I was well received and respected, but somehow, recently, I've begun to feel small and worthless and hopeless. I hated that. There was no reason for it, no call for it, yet I felt it all the same.

When I mentioned my latest feelings of inadequacy to my mum, she told me that perhaps I was clinically depressed and that all I needed was a good therapist and some strong drugs. That was my mum's solution to everything, a visit to the chemist.

My dad told me that perhaps I needed a new hobby, something to get my mind off my woes. He told me that he liked woodworking. (Seriously, Dad?)

Earlier today, when I was regaling my work mates with my woes, Padma Patil told me that perhaps I was in need of a man. I wanted to laugh in her face. She worked with Draco and I, in Muggles Relations, and she said it right in front of him. Embarrassed, I told her that all I probably needed was a nap, because I was so tired.

She laughed and said, "I think you need a man, not a nap, although a nice nap after a good romp in the sack is always invigorating." How vulgar could a person be? I mean, we were at our place of work! That woman had no compunction whatsoever. Whatever she thought came right out of her mouth. No morals at all, in my opinion.

Draco and the other two members of our team laughed. I frowned. Draco saw me frown and tried to hide his laughter, but he still laughed. Then, everyone started talking about their last paramour, or their last 'sexual escapade'. I tried to hide behind the high papers on my desk.

I felt Draco's eyes on me. We went out on a 'date' last week, and it ended a bit strangely, but still nicely, but since then he hadn't followed up by asking me out on another. That confused me. Harry also confused me recently. The man told me that he had feelings for me; I told him I had feelings for him, and then he started dating Ginny Weasley again!

I wanted to cry.

Now everyone was talking about sex while we should be working. I wouldn't join in the conversation even if I could, because there were some things that shouldn't be discussed at work, and sex was one of them. (What a little hypocrite I was. Wasn't I at work when I told Draco about me being a virgin?)

I wonder if he had told anyone yet. Of course, he had. He was the biggest gossipmonger I knew. I wonder if everyone laughed about it behind my back. Did they talk about me, make fun of me, hate me?

"I heard he was sleeping with one of his underlings, but he was told to stop or lose his job," Andrew said. I looked up. What had I missed? To whom were they referring? I looked over at Draco, frantically.

He must have misread my look, because he suddenly said, "I know that's a lie. Marcus wasn't sleeping with anyone from our department."

Oh my stars…they were all talking about Marcus! Were they inferring that he was sleeping with me? Because he wasn't! He didn't! He wouldn't! That was half of the problem! Besides, no one here knew Marcus and I had been dating save for Malfoy. I hid my face behind my hand and pretended to read a report when I heard Padma say, "How would you know, Malfoy?"

"Flint and I are friends," he said. I wanted to laugh. Draco Malfoy thought Marcus Flint was a bore and a lowlife. Marcus Flint thought Draco Malfoy was a spoiled sycophant. They were both right.

"You aren't friends," Terry Boot countered.

Great…Malfoy and I had to be surrounded by former Ravenclaws. They were all too smart. I spied Malfoy from between my fingers and waited to see what he would say. "Fine, Boot," Malfoy said. "Former Slytherins are never considered friends, but we always know what's going on with each other, and believe me, he isn't seeing anyone in this department." He said it with such finality that I would have even believed him, though I knew he was lying.

Then, suddenly, Padma blushed. Everyone noticed. As I said, nothing got past the people in our office, and Padma's blush was no exception. Two former Ravenclaws and the smartest Gryffindor (me) and the smartest Slytherin (Malfoy) from our year noticed it acutely. Goldstein urged, "What do you know, Patil? Spill it."

WHAT DID SHE KNOW? I sat upright, to wait anxiously.

"I've been dating Marcus for about three months now," she said in a rush.

I could have been knocked over with a feather by that little tidbit of information. Terry and Andrew didn't notice my reaction. Oh no, they had suddenly bounded from their desks, surrounded Padma, and was bombarding her with questions.

Draco slid a glance toward me.

I felt tears burn the back of my eyes. I felt a lump in my throat. I felt an intense hatred toward everyone with the title of 'Boss', or with the name Marcus Flint or Jim-Bob. The Jim-Bob part was just because I hated that name.

I slipped out of the office and once in the hallway I took off in a run. I refused to let anyone see me cry. While running toward places unknown, I knocked into a few people. I didn't apologize. I just kept running. I felt Malfoy hot on my heels. I heard him call my name.

I kept running.

I rushed to the stairs, flung open the door, and ran inside. There on the stairs, in a heated discussion, was none other than Marcus Flint and Harry Potter.

I stopped cold. Draco slid to a stop right behind me.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked. He always could notice when the slightest thing was wrong with me. "You look close to tears."

I looked at Marcus. He climbed up the stairs, with Harry right behind him. They joined Malfoy and me on the landing. Marcus looked concerned, the stupid piece of shite. He reached out, touched my arm, and said, "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

That's when I lost my sanity. I pulled back my hand, it made a fist all on its own however, and when it came forward, it connected with his nose, HARD. He whelped in pain, held his nose, and almost fell down the stairs, and would have if Harry hadn't been quick and steadied him.

"Hermione!" Harry chastised.

"What in the hell!" Marcus said, though with the gush of blood coming out of his nose and mouth, it sounded more like, _"Waa end da ell?"_

Draco Malfoy was holding me around the waist, restraining me I guess. I shouted, "How long have you been sleeping with Padma?"

Marcus' hand dropped from his bloodied nose. He looked at me shocked, and then he looked at Draco. "Did you tell her?"

I pushed from Draco's arms. "You knew?" I beseeched.

He held up his hands. I think he was afraid I was going to hit him, too. He glanced over at Marcus and said, "I didn't tell her, I swear."

Marcus grabbed a handkerchief from Harry's outstretched hand and hissed, "Well then great, I know you had to be the one to have told her, Potter. I thought you said you wouldn't tell her, because you didn't want to hurt her."

That was when I felt the rebound of my actions, metaphorically speaking of course, because right then, right there, it felt like someone had slapped me upside the head, or in other words, had punched ME in the nose. I wanted to cry more than I ever wanted anything. I wanted to cry like the big old crybaby that I was, but proudly, I held back my tears and said, "You knew, too?"

Harry nodded an infinitesimal amount, but it was enough to answer my question. I let out a choked sounding sob, but kept back the tears. I backed away from them all. I didn't know who I felt the most betrayed by, Harry, Draco or Marcus.

I wasn't the little darling I thought I was. Apparently not very many people liked me after all. Even men who claimed they loved me, as these three all did, didn't mind breaking my heart into a million pieces.

I sat on the next set of stair, hung my head, and finally I started to cry.

Harry placed his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off. Draco sat beside me. I gave him the dirtiest look that I could. He hopped up quickly. Marcus stroked my head and said, "I'm so sorry to have hurt you, Hermione. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do."

"Does everyone know about us?" I asked in horror, realizing suddenly that if the whole _'Padma and Marcus thing' _wasn't a secret, perhaps neither was the whole, _'Hermione and Marcus thing'_.

He squatted before me, still holding Harry's hanky to his bloodied nose. "No one knows, I swear. I only told these two about Padma because they both came and threatened me in regards to you."

"Oh, great!" I lamented.

"What I mean," Marcus explained, "was that they came to me, separately, and told me that if I hurt you, they would kill me."

I huffed, looked up at Draco, who stood next to Harry. Harry said, "Actually, what I told the git was that if I found out that you still loved him, and if he loved you, he had better treat you better or answer to me. That was when he said that he did love you, but that he had been seeing Padma as well, and while you wanted marriage, she wanted what he wanted…a fling."

Draco leaned forward and said, "Apparently the wanker wasn't into the whole marriage scene again, after divorcing Penelope Clearwater. He wanted a mere sexual affair and he didn't want to hurt you. I told him to stay away from you then, or I would kill him. Unlike Potter, I'm not above murder for pleasure."

Marcus stood. "Murdering me would be pleasurable?"

"Not for you, probably, but yeah, I think I might enjoy it," Draco said with a smirk.

Marcus shook his head in annoyance and sat beside me. His arm came around my shoulders. I looked at his nose. It was no longer bleeding. However, the skin around his eyes was turning a pleasant shade of chartreuse. He kissed my cheek. "I never meant to hurt you, about anything," he revealed. "I'm so sorry." I bowed my head on my chest. He rubbed his hand in circles on my back.

He asked, apparently to Malfoy, "How did she find out?"

"Padma told our entire office," Malfoy revealed. "No one coerced her either. She seemed pleased to tell people. If you ask me, she wants people to know because she wants more than a fling."

Harry concurred with, "At least Hermione was always circumspect. She would never have told anyone. I had to practically force her to tell me about you two, and only after you stopped seeing each other."

"And I had to find out the good old Slytherin way, by being sneaking," Draco said with a bark of laughter. Harry laughed as well. I'm glad they thought it was all so amusing.

Marcus took my hand in his. "I'll take care of Padma," he said with resign. "Are you and I okay?"

"Are you going to fire me for hitting you?" I asked. I certainly hoped not. I needed my job. I liked my job. I didn't know if I could continue to work with Padma, (aka: the ugly, long haired, skinny, pointed nose bitch) but I wanted to keep my job.

"No," Harry answered before Marcus could. Marcus and I both looked up at Harry. "He won't fire you, because if he did, he knows he could lose his job for having a relationship with an underling."

"And for still having one, with Patil," Draco harped in agreement.

"And his reputation means too much to him," Harry added.

"As well as his health and well being," Draco responded, a smile forming on his lips.

"Gentlemen," I sighed, "stop threatening Marcus." I stood up and turned back to Marcus who had an amused look on his face. "Am I fired?"

"Am I forgiven?" He stood as he posed this question to me. I had to think about it. Did it matter if I forgave him? Did it matter if I had lost all respect for him as a man and as a boss? Did it matter that I would no longer trust him? Did it matter that I still hated myself a bit more than I hated him, and that I hated that he caused me to feel that way?

"You're forgiven," I concluded. It was a small concession to give the man. After all, he had to deal with Padma now. She was a real bitch compared to me, and whether he realized it or not, she wanted much more than he was willing to offer. She probably was really after HIS job. That thought almost made me smile.

Marcus started toward the doorway, mumbling something about having to give up women. Right, like that was going to happen. I couldn't see Marcus Flint being gay.

Harry sat down on the stairs in Marcus' place. He knocked his shoulder into mine. "Am I forgiven, too?"

"For what?"

"For not telling you that I knew about Padma and Marcus? It really was after the fact that I found out, and by that time, what was the point in hurting you more?" he declared.

Draco sat on the other side of me. It was a tight fit. He placed his arm across my knees and said, "Before you answer Potter, tell me if I'm forgiven."

"For not telling me about Padma and Marcus?" I asked. "I assume it was after Marcus and I broke up, right, like Harry?"

"I could care less if you forgive me about that," he said seriously, adding, "and yes, it was after the fact. Am I forgiven for ignoring you since our date last week?"

I felt Harry flinch beside me. I glance at him slightly. "I already knew about it," Harry offered. "I saw you two at the café."

"Is that why you've been ignoring me?" I asked him. I wanted to ask if that was why he was seeing Ginny again, but that would make me seem shallow and small, and I was already into the self-loathing thing today. I didn't need to hate myself more.

He shrugged. Draco pulled on my hair. I turned toward him. "Ouch, seriously, Malfoy."

"Get back to what's important, me," he teased. "Am I forgiven?"

"Maybe, if you tell me why you've ignored me." I leaned my head on his shoulder. He took my hand. Harry started to stand. I grabbed his hand with my other hand, forcing him to remain beside me, too.

Draco leaned his head against the wall. He closed his eyes for a moment. While they were closed he said, "I've always come in second to Potter, Hermione, or at least, that's how it's always felt. I didn't want to come in second again, and I wanted to give you some space so you could decide what you wanted." His eyes opened slowly. "I was all set to fight for you, fight hard and all, but I care about you too much. I don't want to cause you pain. If you want Potter over me, I want you to have him. For the very first time in my life I want someone to have what they want, over what I want. Odd, huh?"

I didn't respond. He added, "I even thought I might share you with him," and then he laughed. Whoa. Where did that come from? What an odd comment.

I felt Harry stirring beside me. I faced him and quizzed, "And you, Mr. Potter? Your real reason for ignoring me?"

"Same reason, in a way," he affirmed. "If you wanted Malfoy, I wanted you to have him. I wanted you to be happy."

I stood up, walked to the wall, placed my head against it, and said, "Isn't this a fine kettle of fish! Now no one wants me!"

"If that's what you heard, you're dense," Harry accused. I turned slowly. I would have expected a remark like that from Draco, but not from him. He stood as well. "Do you even know what you want, Hermione? Do you even have a clue?"

Malfoy stood beside him. I stared at the two. I really looked at them, side by side. Dark and Light. One tall and slender, one short and muscular. One classically handsome, one incredibly good-looking . One charming and roguish, one every girl's idea of a great man.

And so help me God, Malfoy's words came back to haunt me, because I realized that I wanted them both. How depraved was I? And I thought Padma was immoral! I couldn't possibly tell them that. I already felt like slime today. To tell them something so despicable, so decadent, degenerate, depraved, and morally wrong, would make me feel like the stuff that's on the underside of slime.

Virginal little Hermione Granger wanted her best friend and her co-worker. Unable to articulate my feelings, or even own up to them, I said, "I don't think I want anything anymore, or anyone. How about that?" I walked slowly down the stairs, and finally gave back into the tears that had been threatening to fall all day, and which had only begun earlier.

On my way down the stairwell, I heard Draco say to Harry, "It's your fault, Potter. You pushed her. You tried to force her to tell us how she felt before she knew!"

I stopped on the lower landing to wait to hear what Harry would say.

He said to Draco, "See, Malfoy, I know Hermione Granger a bit better than you. She knows what she wants. She just isn't ready to admit it yet. Once she does, I'm not sure any of us is going to like the answer. Therefore, I think we might have to make her decision for her."

That statement made me angry and a bit sadder. I slipped out the next door, took the lifts back to my floor, went to my office, got my things and went home sick for the rest of the day. I had some decisions to make, because damn it all to hell, I wasn't going to let Harry or Draco make them for me.


	11. Chapter 11 Depressed by Someone

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 11 – Depressed – by Someone (insert the name of your preferred party here)**

**SHE MADE HER CHOICE, **and it wasn't me. In the back of my mind, I always knew it wouldn't be. I knew she would pick him, and now I'm very depressed. I don't remember the last time I felt this depressed, this sad, this isolated. I know it's been years. I also know that I won't get over it easily this time.

I've lost her for good. I can't possibly go from loving her to being just her friend. I'm not some noble saint. I can't turn my feelings on and off like that. Maybe every other bloke who has loved her can continue to be her friend, but I can't. I'm not that strong. She just told me her decision a few hours ago, and afterwards we had some nasty words between us. After the nastiness, she cried and begged for me to forgive her, and being the pathetic being that I am, I tried to change her mind, but she was absolute, so I told her that I would never forgive her, because she loved him not me, at least not in that way.

Yeah, she still wants to be friends…as if that's going to happen.

She might not even have made her choice yet if the other git and I hadn't forced her to do so. We got together today and told her that the end had come. She needed to make her choice, or we would make it for her. She became angry and told us that if we pushed her, she would pick neither of us, just out of spite. The other git laughed at that, because he thought she was kidding. I knew she wasn't, so I said, "Fine then, don't choose either of us and die alone and a virgin."

Believe me, it was the wrong thing to say. Even the other git stopped laughing and he said, "Oh, you're in so much trouble," to me. By the look in Hermione's eyes, I believed him. Then she crumbled. Literally. She collapsed on my couch, (where she remained) and in a very small voice she said, "If I have to choose, I choose him," and she pointed at the other bloke, not at me.

Now she's refused to leave my home, the stupid little twat. I told her I wouldn't do anything crazy or mad, and I won't, probably. Doesn't a man have a right to be depressed and angry when the best thing he might ever have had just told him that she wanted someone else? Forgive me, but I feel I'm entitled to a bit of a pity session - BY MYSELF!

I glanced over at her. She's on my sofa, her legs pulled up to her chin, her big brown eyes, softened by recent tears, staring up at me. I turned away, still depressed, still angry. She started to whimper again. Good. I wanted to make her cry. She made me sad, so why couldn't I make her sad?

Except…hearing her crying was breaking my heart all over again.

She had a right to love whomever she wanted, even if she was making the worst mistake of her life. Even if it meant she'd never have me in her life. Even if it meant that someday that rotten bastard would hurt her, because mark my words, he would, and I swear I won't be around to pick up the pieces.

If circumstances were reversed, I dare say he would feel the exact same way as me.

Finally, she asked again, "Please tell me, will you ever forgive me?"

"Give it up, Granger," I retorted back to her. "There's nothing to forgive. You're allowed to love whom you want, and I'm allowed to disagree with your decision. Now, please remove your arse from my sofa, in fact, remove your entire person from my entire, bloody house!"

"But…" she began.

"Come on, love," the arse-hole beside her said. Yeah, he was here, too. Remember, we had asked her to talk with us together, and she agreed, which rather made her a sadist, didn't it? After she told us her decision, she told us that she had a request of us, which was not only laughable, in regards to everything else, but was also sick and twisted, and if I were in my right mind, I would have assumed someone else had thought of it.

Her request was that she wanted her first time to be with us both, even though she had picked him as the one to be with in the end. Wasn't that just jolly? Didn't that make her the world's most 'perverse' little virgin? She had all sorts of reasons. _"I trust you both. I love you both, in different ways…I'm in love with one and I've loved the other as I've loved no other."_

What the hell did _that_ mean? She was certifiable.

And the bloke beside her stared at her with endearing attention and eventually agreed that it was a good idea. I wanted to scream, _"WHAT THE FUCK?"_ but I knew that wasn't the most eloquent thing to say so instead I glared at them both. I didn't want to share her with him! I wouldn't share her with him if she was the last woman on earth! I wanted to be her first, not her first and half! I wanted to be her 'one and only', not her 'one of many'. I wanted to be her 'only one', not her 'other one'. I wanted to be her last, not her 'second to last'.

They were both twisted and perverse.

I told her this right after she told me her plan. I told her that she was depraved, perverted, and that she made me sick just to look at her.

She looked as if I had struck her in the face. I felt joyous at causing her so much pain, but only for a moment. Still, I forged ahead. I told her… "That's sick, Hermione! You've saved yourself all these years for a threesome with him and me? I'm not a homosexual! I wouldn't have sex with that bastard for all the galleons in the world, and the thought of you having sex with him is enough to make me want to be sick, let alone the thought of us both having sex with him!"

"First, it wouldn't be like that," she argued.

"How would you know, virgin?" I snarled.

The other man stood up from the couch and said, "Put a sock in it, you bastard. I've heard you malign her enough. You told her you wanted her to be honest with us, well, she's trying to be honest with us about how she feels. She's trying to tell you what's in her heart and what she wants, and because it's not what you want, you want to berate her!"

I stood, toe to toe with the effing moron and shouted, "You're only being accommodating because she picked you, and because you know I'd say NO to the whole thing!"

"Wrong, you royal pain in the arse!" he shouted back. "For your information, I suggested this to her before she made her choice! I thought it would help her make her choice! When we called her here tonight, I had no clue which way she was leaning! Unlike you, I'll support her no matter what! I want to give her everything and anything! I'm not thinking of myself! I'm not being selfish!"

He grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her toward the door. He turned back. "And like you, I'm also not a homosexual! This has nothing to do with that! It has everything to do with loving this woman, and trying my hardest to love the things that she loves, and if that includes you, so be it."

They were almost to the door when I pointed my wand at the nearest thing to me, which just so happened to be my new telly, and I smashed it to smithereens!

Hermione pulled her hand from his, ran to me, and threw her arms around my waist. I stood there, shaking all over, fury emanating out of every pore, staring over her head at the man she picked over me and all I thought of was how much I hated them both.

Then I pointed my wand at him. Merlin, it would have been so easy to kill him right then. Her face was tucked into my chest. I placed my free hand in her wavy hair to press it tighter against me. She wouldn't have seen. I could have killed him and then Oblivated her memory. I was angry enough with both of them to kill, and he was such an easy target. No one would really miss him, would they? She would get over him. She would have me to help her pick up the pieces.

My wand still pointed at him, I glared at him. He opened his arms, as if to receive my curse. He said, "Do it, if that's what you have to do. Show her how much you love her, and do it."

I pressed her face harder against me, and started to say the words in my mind. I've uttered them before. I've killed better men than him. It would have been so very, very easy.

I lowered my wand. I pushed her away. I sat down in the chair to fume. She sat on the end of the couch. He sat on the other end.

That was hours ago. Here we are, all the same.

I hate them both right now. But I hate myself more, because I didn't really hate her, or even him, and I was going to forgive her, I was going to forgive him, and I was going to agree to her terms. Not because I was desperate. Not because I was a hungry dog in the yard waiting for a bone. But because I had begged her to be honest with us, and she was, and who was I to condemn her for that.

Who was I to condemn him for her choice?

Who was I to revile him for loving her more than I loved her, because unlike him, I couldn't have shared her, I wouldn't have shared her, no matter what she wanted, and I knew it better than either of them knew it.

Now as they were sitting on my couch and I was sitting in a chair watching them, I knew she had made the right choice. His hand was on her neck as they sat on opposite ends of the sofa. He was rubbing the tension out of her corded muscles under her hair. She turned her face toward him and smiled. She smiled at him with love. Me…hell, she hardly seemed to notice me right now, even though I was still staring at her.

"Okay," I finally said. Hermione turned her attention immediately toward me, as did the prat next to her. "But if we do this, we never speak of it again. We take a wizard's oath that it will remain between us three, never to be revealed, or repeated. And I won't hold your choice against either of you, Hermione. You had every right to make the choice that you did. It was the wrong choice, but you had the right to make it."

"And will you still be my friend?" she asked softly.

I shrugged. That was the question, wasn't it. "I know I'll never be his," I said, pointing to the man beside her, "Because if he ever hurts you, I'll kill him quicker than he can bat an eye."

"Agreed," she said.

"Hey wait," the dolt beside her said. "I might not agree to those terms. Define 'hurting her' so that I know what will bring about my untimely death," he expressed.

I merely looked at him. He knew what I meant, the smarmy bastard. I was quick to add, "And I won't kiss him or touch him if I can help it."

"Merlin, yes," he agreed.

We all stood and made our Wizard's oath. We made plans. We made promises and vows. Tomorrow night would be the night.

And funny enough, I felt alright with the whole thing. After they left, I felt that perhaps she made the right choice, and if I truly felt that way, then it really HAD to be the right choice wasn't it.

I decided to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a big day. I couldn't believe I was going to have a ménage à trois with the likes of him. How many people reading this can believe that? Yes, tomorrow will be interesting, to say the least.

* * *

_*A/N: Here's the deal…the person 'thinking' in this chapter could be anyone you want it to be. For the Dramione fans, it's __Harry__'s thoughts. For Harmione fans, it's __Draco__'s thoughts. I know who I imagined it was while writing it. (Hint: This person goes through many televisions.)_

_For those who aren't ready for a ménage a trois, even one that will probably be tame by most versions, stop reading now and don't read the next chapter. Sorry for the long update to this. It's been ready for a while. Life has been unexpected lately, and well, you know…_

_Thanks to Laurielove and DHLane and all the other wonderful people who gave me encouraging words in the shoutbox over at GE. Kel told me to read it. I was a bit off my rocker for a moment. A few of you know why, and thanks for your help. Things aren't better yet, but I hope and pray they will be soon._


	12. Chapter 12 Three Become One by Author

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 12 – Three Become One – by the Author**

**WHAT WAS SHE THINKING? **This had to be a mistake. She was nervous and full of anxiety. As soon as they arrived at the hotel, Draco insisted that she take a nice, long bubble bath to relax. Instead of relaxing, the long bath only gave her more time to think, which gave her more time to worry, and to doubt her decision.

After she finished bathing, she opened the bathroom door just a crack. She was self-conscious wearing nothing but a red, silk robe that Draco had left for her. She clutched it securely around her waist, cinching the belt so tightly that she winced in pain. Draco wore a black silk robe and Harry midnight blue. She spied the man in the blue robe staring out the window, fiddling with the cord of the window blind. The other man sat in a chair in the corner, one of his bare, long legs wobbling up and down in nervous expectation. Was it possible that they were as anxious, nervous, and worried as she?

Hermione stepped out of the bathroom and looked at the candles burning all around the hotel room and she bit her lip in anticipation. The glow of the candles turned the colour of her skin to a shimming golden hue. Both men stopped what they were doing to look at her. Draco's mouth opened, but no words came out. He was awestruck. Harry's mouth closed in a firm, thin line. He was dumbstruck. Draco hopped hastily off the chair and approached her just as quickly. In fact, she was startled by his sudden movement and took a step backwards. He steadied her with a hand to her arm, then smiled and presented her with a white rose. Instead of merely handing it to her, he brushed the silken petals smoothly along her cheekbone, down her nose, to her lips. Back and forth across her lips the rose moved. The fragrance was heady and exotic. She sighed as the rose moved from her lips down her collarbone, along the outside curve of her silk covered breasts.

Her nipples immediately hardened. She closed her eyes. How was she going to get through this night?

Harry walked up behind her and let the knuckles of his right hand move down the curve of her spine. She shivered. Draco stood in front of her, the rose dropping from his hand, as he moved to loosen the tie of the silk robe around her waist.

All she could think was '_WAIT'_! Was it going to happen now, this fast, just like that?

"Wait…" Hermione began. "I want to say something." Harry stepped away, and moved to face her. He sat on the edge of the bed to wait to see what she had to say.

Draco moaned and moved away from her as well and said, "I thought we agreed last night that we weren't going to talk about things too much. I'm a man of action, Granger, not words."

Harry snorted. Draco gave him a dirty look and a two-finger salute.

When they were agreeing to terms last night, they had agreed not to talk excessively. Draco had insisted on that provision. He said it was fine if Hermione wanted to say simple things such as "Yes," and "No," and "My that's big," but he didn't want to have a full-blown discussion _before_ or _during_ sex. He joked that he would be pleased to take a quiz afterwards, especially if it was an 'Oral Quiz'. Harry laughed at that. Hermione was oblivious to his double entendre, and said, "I don't think testing will be necessary." Draco and Harry both laughed after she said that.

Draco also joked that Hermione would probably want to analyze everything they did, and would want a question/answer period after each new thing was introduced. Harry laughed again, and again he agreed to that. Hermione didn't care. If she wanted to talk, she would, Wizard's Oath or not.

They also agreed that Hermione could stop or change her mind at any time, at any point. Harry insisted on this stipulation. Hermione thought that was sweet.

Each man made several more requests last night while Hermione remained mostly quiet. After all talking ceased, Harry lifted his wand and proceeded to 'seal the deal' of their 'Wizard's Oath' when Hermione lifted her hand to stop him. Harry looked at her expectantly, and Draco looked at her guardedly as she said, "Wait, I have something to say."

"Of course you do, love," Draco had said, even as Harry urged, "Go on, Hermione."

"First, I really do think this is right. I'm not ashamed of this, or embarrassed. I don't think it's wrong, and I'm not ever going to regret this, but I have one request."

Both men waited. She finished, "I don't want us to ever forget the fact that I love you both. In different ways, but still, I love you both, and no matter what my choice would have been, this is still how I would have wanted this to happen."

Draco smiled. Harry nodded. She was quick to add, "Oh, and if either of you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll hex your balls off."

"That would indeed be unpleasant, and not something I would relish," Draco teased. "Also, it might be hard to perform tomorrow night if that were to occur. Believe me; I don't intend ever to tell a soul. In fact, you can Oblivate my memory later."

"I insist you Oblivate mine," Harry also kidded.

"Fine," Hermione agreed. They made their promise to each other, sealed it with magic, and then they met the next night here at this Muggle hotel. It was a beautiful room. Draco paid for everything. Harry let him. Harry decided that since Draco had won the girl, he should foot the bill.

Now, tonight, as she announced she had something **more** to say, the men's attitudes were slightly different. Each man was chagrined, for different reasons. Harry was afraid that she had changed her mind. He had made the rule that she could, if she so wanted, at any time, but he sorely hoped that she would not. If she had, then he might never have this chance again, since she had 'picked' Malfoy as the man with whom she was in love.

Draco was afraid that her famous Gryffindor courage was beginning to waver and that she would want to remain a virgin until marriage, or some such folly. If that were the case, he would get down on bended knee right now and pop the question and they would marry tonight. Seriously. Potter could be the maid of honour.

Hermione looked at both men, sitting side by side on the edge of the bed. She held the robe together with her hand, though it was still tied, and said, "I don't think I adequately explained to either of you last night, or even the night I made my choice, as to why I want this happen this way."

"ARRGGHH!" Draco said in a strangled, sounding moan. He fell back on the bed, looked up at the ceiling, and said to no one in particular, "Why me?"

Harry looked over at Malfoy and said, "So eager to have sex with me, Malfoy, that you can't allow her to have her say?"

"Listen, Scarboy," Draco drawled, "those are the types of insensitive jokes that we all agreed we wouldn't make to one another, remember? If we belittle this, it won't work."

Harry grinned, cocked his head toward Draco while looking at Hermione, and said, "Listen to Mr. Sensitive. Look, in the end, Hermione, either we do this or we don't, and we can talk to death the reasons forever, but the reasons don't really matter to either of us. We'll do this because we want to, and because you want us to do it."

"But in a way, Draco's right, though," Hermione said sadly. She sat between the men and sighed. "This probably won't really work, will it?"

When neither man said anything, Hermione stood back up and said, "Still, I want to explain my thought processes to you both, please? It won't take long, and I really feel compelled to tell you."

"But why does it matter, Hermione?" Draco asked. "Not that I agree with the boy I wish hadn't lived, but the reasons are moot. We both want this, your way, no matter what."

"It's important to me," she explained. "I just want to make a little speech and then we can proceed."

Both men moaned at the mention of the word 'speech', each expecting Hermione to give them a sarcastic look of some sort. When she gave them a 'hurt' expression instead, Harry said, "I'm sorry," while Draco said, "Have at it, love."

The men stared up at her from the bed, both quiet, in rapt attention, and she began. "I had a dream…"

Draco moaned again.

"Stop it, Draco!" Hermione fussed.

"Is this going to take long?" Draco asked. He looked over at Harry and said lightly, "I think she stole this speech from some deceased African American Muggle. He had a dream speech, too, and it was a bloody long speech, though quite eloquent. I doubt it had anything to do with threesomes, however. I thought it had to do with racial inequality." Both men let out loud waves of laughter. Hermione couldn't help but smile as well, even as she stomped her foot and told them to shut up.

"Stop it, both of you! It's not funny! I know you're trying to alleviate some of your pent up stress, but you shouldn't make fun of Dr. King's 'I have a dream speech'! Now please, listen to me," she pleaded, though she still laughed. She walked over to the window and stared outside, as Harry had done before. She placed a hand on the cold glass. Condensation gathered on her palm from the water droplets on the smooth surface. She made patterns in the condensation with the tip of her finger.

Then she resumed speaking. "A long time ago, I had a silly dream when Harry and I were alone, during the Horcrux search. It was a slightly erotic dream. I remember waking up, feeling frustrated and embarrassed, and then when the realization of where we were, and why we were there, and remembering that Ron had left us, and that we were alone, came crashing down on me, I started to cry."

She looked over her shoulder. Harry was looking at the carpet. He recalled the incident clearly. Draco was staring at her. She looked back out at the dark scene before her. She could scarcely make out streetlights and stars. "Harry was keeping watch, but he ran into the tent and without asking me what was wrong, he gathered me into his arms. He asked me if I had a nightmare. Back then, Harry and I didn't keep things from each other, so I told him that I had a dream that Ron and I were making love, but that right in the middle of it, he stopped, and he left me, just like real life."

She turned toward the hotel room. "Harry rubbed the tears from my cheeks. He asked me if Ron and I had ever done more than kissing and I told him no. I asked him if Ginny and he had done more than kissing. He told me yes. Then, without me asking, he told me about his and Ginny's first time. He left out the lurid details, but he was so sweet, and expressive, and he talked about feelings, and emotions, and thoughts, and actions. I knew he made Ginny's first time special, even though it was his first time, too. I also knew that Ron could never do that for me."

"I made a little pact with myself," she said with a slight smile, "that Harry Potter would be my first. I knew it was a lark, and probably wouldn't happen, because we were merely best friends. He loved Ginny, I was with Ron, even though he had left us at that moment, but it was a nice thought. I wanted a first time like the one he gave to Ginny. That thought got me through some rough times. I think that's part of the reason why I began to romanticize thoughts of him and me together. It's why I began to confuse the lines of friendship and romance."

She looked embarrassed for a moment. It was something she and Harry had discussed last night after Draco had left. They had decided that they were NOT truly 'in love' but that they were 'in love' with the thought of being in love with someone like the person they admired most, for her, that was Harry, and for him, that was Hermione.

For she truly loved Draco, and Harry decided that his first love, Ginny, would probably forever be his last love, he merely needed to tell her that.

Draco piped up and said, "I can give you that, Granger. I'm not saying that we can't go through with the whole threesome if you still want, but I could have given you a memorable occasion all on my own."

"Memorable, yes," Hermione said, walking in front of the men. She sat up on the dresser, folded her arms in front of her. "Draco, I've worked in the same office with you for years, you know."

"Yes, I know. I've been there," he said, flippantly.

"And you've openly talked about all your girlfriends, and conquest, and dates," she reminded him.

"And you're going to hold all of that against me?" he asked, defensively.

She shook her head 'no' before words escaped. Finally, she said, "No, I won't hold them against you. Listen, you've talked cavalierly about women, and that's fine, and one day, you and the blokes from the office were all talking about your first times, and I overheard."

Draco looked confused. "When was this? I don't recall this."

"Last year," she reminded him. "I was still with Ron. I was on the floor in the office, under my desk, hiding, when you and Terry and I think Michael Corner walked in the room."

"Under the desk?" Harry asked before Draco could. "Goodness, Hermione, if the men didn't see you, you shouldn't hold what they said against them. They were probably lying anyway. Men always lie about their conquest to each other."

"Yeah, what Scarboy said," Draco huffed. "Wait, why were you hiding under the desk?"

"I wasn't really hiding," she backtracked. "I was under the desk, um, well, um, hmmm, okay, I was hiding from Ron. We had a fight, he was trying to find me for lunch, and I merely wanted to eat in peace, so I was under my desk, eating, and you three walked in, and you were talking about some woman you had sex with the night before. You were saying quite awkward things, so I was too embarrassed to show myself."

"I, I don't recall a thing I said," he admitted. He came to stand beside her. "Granger, she apparently meant nothing, as I don't even recall the retelling of the incident, but please, why is this relevant to my first time?"

"One of the men asked you how many women you'd been with and you said, 'I hardly can recall a number that large' and you all laughed," she revealed.

From his place on the bed, Harry said, "See, I told you, men lie about their conquest all the time, Hermione."

"Shove it, Potter," Draco sneered. He took a long, ragged breath and then took Hermione's hand. "Granger, I didn't lie. I don't recall the number, but what does that matter?"

"Terry asked you what your preference was, and you told them that one woman was much the same as the next," she recalled. "As long as they had all the right body parts."

He dropped her hand.

"You said that as long as they shut their mouths at the right moment, opened it at the right moment, and didn't cost you more than one hundred galleons, you didn't have a preference," she continued.

He took a step backwards.

"One of the men, I don't know who, asked you if you preferred women with a lot of experience, and you laughed and said, 'give me a virgin and by the end of the night she'll have all the experience she needs to please me.' Everyone laughed. Terry said that you must not have had many virgins. You took a long moment to answer, and finally you said that he was right, that you didn't think you had ever had a virgin and that frankly, on second though, you would prefer not to have one, because a virgin probably couldn't handle someone like you, and besides, you would prefer not to have to 'break them in'."

After her long sentence, Draco sat back on the bed. "I recall that now," he whispered.

"I'll never forget it," she said just as softly. "I was already starting to have some feelings for you, but that set them back a bit. For one thing, I was every bit a virgin, and I thought if you ever found that out, it would repulse you."

"But you admitted it so readily to me," Draco responded.

"When I did so, I was temporarily insane from my Marcus episode," she joked. "You even told them that your first time wasn't with a virgin."

"Like Potter said, I lied," Draco said on a sigh. He took her hand again. "My first time was when I was fifteen. Young, perhaps, and I won't say who it was with, for you both know her, but I'm sure she doesn't look back fondly on her first time like Ginny Weasley and Potter does. It was awkward, it was painful for her, and it was over in a flash. I embarrassed myself by finishing too quickly, and by not caring that she didn't enjoy it, because hell, I didn't enjoy it."

He placed a finger under her chin. "I don't want a first time like that for you, Granger. Why do you think I'm agreeing to this madness? This threesome with a man I despise more than I hate peas?"

"You hate peas?" she asked.

He nodded.

"I hate peas," she said, feeling stupid suddenly. "So all of my ranting this evening has been for nothing, right? I mean, it doesn't matter, my reasoning, because you're both still okay with this, and doing this my way?"

"Always have been, though it's nice to know there's a reason behind it," Harry said from his place on the bed.

"Yes, you come off like a bloody prince in her reasoning, and I come off as a bloody evil Lothario," Draco reasoned, stepping back and sitting up on the dresser beside her.

Harry snorted and barked, "Close your robe, Malfoy!"

"Get a good look, Potter, you know you want to do more than look." Draco pulled his robe over his legs and added, "If only Granger hadn't been hiding from the evil red weasel that day, her first time would be with me alone, and you wouldn't even be here."

"And it would be over in five seconds, with you finishing before her, and her in tears, if your last virgin is a testament to your stealth with virgins," Harry mocked.

Hermione smiled as Draco gave Harry yet another hateful glare and another rude hand gesture. However, Harry wasn't looking back. He was looking at Hermione and smiling and she was smiling back. He reached for her hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed her fingers lightly. Draco was instantly jealous of what they had together. Sure, he won the girl in the end, but nothing would ever change the fact that deep down she really wanted her first time to be with her best friend, not with him, merely because he had misrepresented himself to a bunch of men who meant nothing to him, as he often did. Feigning a casual spirit that he didn't feel, Draco clapped his hands together and said, "So, are we still going to do this thing, or what? If we keep talking, I'm afraid Potter will lose the mood."

Hermione jumped off the dresser almost at the same moment that Draco did. He grasped her hips from behind, his large hands holding her against him. He placed his chin on her shoulder, kissed the side of her neck, and said, "Well?"

Harry stood before her. One of his hands came up to cup the side of her face. She leaned her head toward his grasp. Behind her Draco was stroking his hands up and down her sides, slowly, as he nuzzled her hair and neck. Harry leaned in and kissed her lips. He wanted to be the first to do THAT this evening. It was a quick, brief, but a searing kiss, nonetheless. He nibbled slowly at her lips before his tongue glided in to taste her. After the kiss, he reached for the sash of her robe and unknotted it, but left it lightly tied.

Draco's hand came around to her waist, to hold her, before her knees buckled. Again, to be certain, he said in her ear, "So?"

Hermione nodded and turned to face Draco. He slipped his hands to her shoulders and then down the slopes of her breasts, to the tie of the red robe. He pulled the sash the rest of the way and the gown wafted open.

He peeked down at her body. He saw the gentle swell of her breasts, the slope of her stomach, and beyond. She was more than he ever expected. He leaned forward to lick and suck at her lips, his tongue swiping the bottom one, then the top. He pulled her to him and she had to stand up on her toes. He pressed her body against his. He was rock hard for her. He suspected that Potter was as well.

The scent of her body filled the room. She was soft, round, beautiful. At first, both men paid homage to her body, slowly, reverently. Placing her on the bed, they touched, stroked, kissed and fondled. She closed her eyes and let them. She would reach out and touch them in return, first one, then the other, sometimes both. She liked it best when they were with her at the same time. She was shocked at first, then intrigued.

Lips touched places that she never imagined them touching. She moaned, keened, and cried out so many times in the beginning, that she shocked herself.

They worked in tandem, synchronized, and succinct. One man would kiss across her neck, shoulders and back while the other would suck and caress her breasts with their tongue. One would spread her knees and bury their head between them, while the other kissed her lips languidly.

They shifted positions, moved across the bed, and she climaxed. When it was time to take her fully for the first time, Draco nodded to Harry. She wanted Harry to be her first, so Draco would relent. After all, Draco knew that he would be her last. Harry placed his full weight on her, whispered words of love in her ear, and entered her slowly; all the while Draco stroked her hair and held her hand tightly, grasping it in his own.

There was some pain, but it disappeared quickly. Moments passed and things became hazy, even somewhat lurid, but more highly erotic than she ever would have guessed. Harry continued with an endearing shyness, but one that was sure, calm, and unselfish. When she felt as if she was about to fall off a precipice, Draco lifted her upper body with his arm and he kissed her while the other man fell off the edge with her.

Her eyes opened and her gaze went from the man on top of her to the man beside her. As if it was right, even though he didn't want to give her up, Harry moved from her and lifted her slightly so that she was on her side. Draco fell on his back. Harry helped her to sit upon the other man. Glancing down at Draco, she was aware that Harry was at her side, holding onto her, caressing her, guiding her. Pearls of moisture gleamed off her body, as she became one with the man she loved.

She cried out again, surprised that she could 'feel' again so quickly. Draco cursed, apologized for cursing, and then cursed again, which made Harry want to laugh. Draco reached up for her hair, tangling his hands in her long tresses. She felt as if she was going to fall off him, because her bones had turned to mush. Harry noticed and said something to Draco. She didn't hear him, but suddenly, she was no longer on top of him. Draco moved them so that she was back on the bottom and he finished his climax on top of her.

The three lay together, stroking each other, breathing hard, shuddering in the aftermath. Her dark lashes fell against her ivory cheeks. Draco laughed and said, "She thinks it's over, Potter. She thinks she's going to sleep, when we've only just begun."

"Let her sleep for a while," Harry argued.

"I can hear you," she said, "though I doubt that I can move."

She curled into a small ball and said, "Cold." Harry pulled the cover over her body and lay down to face her. Draco curled up behind her. He threw an arm over her. Harry touched her face.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

She shook her head slightly.

"Did I?" Draco asked from behind.

Again, a small head shake.

"We really do have all night, so you sleep a while, love," Draco said.

Harry felt bereft and thought, 'I only have tonight.' He swallowed the lump in his throat. As if sensing his thoughts, Draco looked over Hermione's shoulder at the other man. Harry started to get off the bed, but Draco reached over and held Harry's wrist.

"Where are you going, Pothead?"

"Her first time is over and done," Harry stated. "If I stay any longer, it will only be intrusive. You need to be alone, now. The rest of the night belongs to you two, together, just like the rest of your life will be." He looked down at the other man's hand as it circled his wrist and said, "Now, let go."

Draco mouthed the words, 'Thank you.'

Harry was numb for a moment. He didn't know what to say in return. Merlin knew he didn't do it for Malfoy, but then again, Malfoy probably wasn't thanking him for himself. He was thanking Harry for Hermione, which wasn't necessary. He would do anything for Hermione…even give her to another man.

He smiled at Malfoy and nodded twice, then leaned down and kissed Hermione's cheek. He rolled off the bed, picked up the red robe. He held it to his cheek, the silk soft and full of her scent. He dropped it and picked up the blue robe beside it on the floor, slipping it on before he went into the bathroom to shower and change.

Harry apparated directly from the bathroom back to his house. He walked around his living room for a few moments, aimlessly. He felt lost. He felt as if he lost his best friend, though he knew he hadn't. He also didn't feel like going to bed, but he knew he couldn't even watch telly, for he just destroyed another television the other night. He loathed to look over at the blank space on the wall where his new plasma, flat screen should be. He looked over anyway.

Then he chuckled. On the wall was a new, bigger, plasma, flat screen television, with a big, GREEN bow on it. He walked closer and saw a card dangling from the blasted thing. He grabbed the card, opened it and laughed aloud. It was from Malfoy. It read, **_"I might have won the girl in the end, but you got a new telly out of the arrangement. Sweet deal if you ask me. Thanks again, Potter. I'll never hurt her, I swear. For one thing, I love her too much. For another thing, I love myself too much, and you would kill me. Malfoy."_**

At the bottom of the card was a little postscript. It read, **_"P.S.: I made a date for you with Ginny Weasley for tomorrow night. She's very receptive to getting back together with you, you lucky bastard – Malfoy."_**

Harry folded the card, threw himself on the couch, and turned on his new television and smiled. Everything turned out the way it should have, so he really was happy, in the end.

And the Author hopes the same can be said for the rest of you.


End file.
